


Excelsior *A Harry Styles Love Story* UNDERGOING REVISIONS

by jimins_crooked_tooth



Category: Harry Styles - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Drug Abuse, F/M, Fanfiction, Love Story, Romance, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, attempted suicide, triggering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-02-13 20:33:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 78,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2164239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jimins_crooked_tooth/pseuds/jimins_crooked_tooth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Excelsior<br/>ex·cel·si·or \ik-ˈsel-sē-ər, eks-ˈkel-sē-ˌȯr\<br/>foreign term meaning still higher; ever upwards</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Warnings

Some of the material in this story may be inappropriate and mature for younger viewers. Viewer discretion is advised. Read at your own risk as some of the content may be triggering (attempted suicide, drug abuse, self-harm, suicidal thoughts, etc.)

**Please also keep in mind that many of the things that are mentioned within this story are things that affect people in different ways. Please keep an open mind in case you have not experienced things in the same ways as these characters.

I do not own the character Harry Styles, nor am I associated with him or any of the members of One Direction. Please do not take any of the ideas or other characters within this story.

Thank you.

 

-Mia<3


	2. Prologue

Pain.

It coursed through my veins with every pump of blood my heart sent through my system. My wrists ached as the lukewarm liquid fled quickly from the open wounds I had inflicted upon myself. Each wound stung with the pain of a thousand needles, but for once in my life, I felt in control.

The frantic sounds of people around hardly phased me and I tried my hardest to tune them out. The coolness of the tile floor beneath me seeped through the thin clothing on my back, the inverse feeling of imaginary flames engulfing my entirety and making everything within me burn more with each passing second.

I was vaguely aware of a pair of cold fingers applying light pressure to the area between my neck and jawline. The voices around me made my head pound but I wasn't strong enough to block them out.

"We need to get him out of here. His pulse is slow."

 _No_ , I thought. _Don't take me anywhere. Leave me here. I don't want to go._

"Harry," a steady voice demanded, softly but surely. "Harry, I need you to stay with me, okay? Stay with me. We're going to help you."

_No. Please don't help me. Can't you just see I want to die? Leave me here to die._

"I need help!" the man called over his shoulder. _No. No help._ "Harry, can you hear me?" he asked worriedly and rested a hand on my shoulder, but even the smallest touch ignited intense pain all over my body.

I didn't respond. Instead I focused on the persistent throbbing clouding my senses. I released an involuntary groan of agony when a hand grabbed each of my wrists and began wrapping bandages around the cuts on my forearms. The tight pressure of the wrap on my skin made the pulse in my wrists feel even more prominent and I wanted nothing more in that moment than to curse the one who swaddled them.

"He's conscious!" an unfamiliar someone announced. "We need to get him out of here!"

I felt the all-too-familiar feeling of tears streaming down my cheeks at the overwhelming reality of the situation. I had failed. My plan had taken an unexpected turn for the worst. The paramedics had reached me too soon and now, their determination to force me away from this place was impossible to overpower. Multiple pairs of hands worked to lift me onto a stretcher as my body screamed in anguish and a seemingly endless stream of tears flooded down my face.

"No," I mouthed, but only a small breath of air passed through my lips due to my gradually weakening state. I tried forming the word again, but it resembled more of a moan than a coherent sentence. "No," I begged over and over again, but the sound of the ambulance siren drowned out my pitiful pleas. "Just let me die."

It was all becoming too much for me—the pain immersing my body, the overwhelming sensation of defeat in the pit of my stomach, and my aching heart that I was certain couldn't be mended by any medical means. My tired eyes stung brutally behind my eyelids and my head throbbed relentlessly. Reality slipped away as unconsciousness pulled me into a state of ephemeral peace. My hope had been lost ages ago, but for the first time, I truly wished it was my life that had been lost instead.


	3. Chapter 1

***Harry's POV***   
  
  


When I finally regained consciousness, reality seemed even fuzzier than usual. My body was numb, my head stuffy and aching, and my eyelids heavier than ever. I felt so tired and weak that I could hardly muster the strength to open then.

Beneath me rested a mattress, one within a secluded hospital room by the sounds of a heart monitor beeping steadily nearby. It rang through my ears and reverberated in time with the prominent pulses in my raw wrists. Moments later the squeak of a door handle turning alerted me, followed by the undeniable sound of footsteps following suit. The door closed shut and I heard the sounds of running water, a man clearing his throat, and even the soft sound of pen on paper.

"How is he doing?" a woman's voice whispered.

"His vitals are better than when he first came in," a gentleman replied. "If they hadn't brought him in when they did, I'm not sure we would have been able to save him."

 _Save_ , I thought, mentally tasting the word. _How can they think I wanted to be saved?_

"Have the causes of his hospitalization been determined?"

"After looking at the results of his blood tests, it seems he overdosed."

 _Almost overdosed. I'm still alive so I_ almost _overdosed._

"When they brought him in his wrists were cut all the way up his forearms. He needed a blood transfusion and his stomach pumped from the minute he got here. The drugs thinned out his blood so when he bled, it poured. Thankfully the paramedics got to him before too much damage was done. He's lucky to be alive right now."

 _I'm lucky? I'm lucky to be alive? I tried to end my life for a reason. I don't want to be alive. I'm better off dead._ My bubbling rage and growing exhaustion caused me to tune out their conversation and drift off into another distressed slumber.  
  
  
  
  
  


**. . .**   
  
  
  
  
  


"I think he's waking up."

"Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure."

"Should I go get the doctor?"

"Yes, yes! Quick!"

I stretched for the first time in goodness knows how long, my legs popping as I extended them as far as they could reach. I went to stretch out my arms but was slightly restrained by what felt like small tubes poking out of my skin.

"Be careful," a gentle voice cautioned. "You don't want to pull anything out."

My eyes fluttered open for the first time since arriving at the hospital. The intensity of the lights were like pins and needles to my eyes. When my clouded vision finally cleared, I glimpsed down at the morphine and IVs protruding out of my left arm.

"How are you feeling?" came a voice to my right.

I blinked and turned my face to meet the eyes of a nurse by my bedside. Pastel pink hospital scrubs patterned in assorted butterflies adorned her short, pudgy figure. She looked around thirty or so with choppy blond hair pinned back behind her ears.

I narrowed my eyes at her and spat out, "Like shit. What does it look like?"

Her eyes widened and she gulped, unsure of how to reply. "Uh, well, the doctor will be in shortly. Is there anything we could g-"

"No, I don't want anything from you people," I replied brutishly, causing my head to ache. She glanced nervously to the door and back, anticipating the doctor's arrival so she could leave. I emitted a deep groan as the pounding in my head traveled to every point in my body. Everything hurt.

"We gave you some pain medication while you were asleep, so after it sinks in you will start to feel less pain," she explained, reading my mind. I glared and she diverted her eyes quickly elsewhere, intimidated by the hostility directed towards her.

Just then, the door to the room opened and the doctor entered. He was a tall, old man with graying hair, wrinkled skin and fishbowl eyeglasses pushed up on the bridge of his nose. He was dressed in a set of turquoise scrubs, a black stethoscope hanging loosely around the back of his neck. The name tag above his left breast read Dr. Roberts in thick black lettering. The nurse scurried out of the room once the doctor entered, leaving the two of us to indulge in the other's company.

"Mr. Styles! What a pleasant surprise it is to see you awake!" I winced as his loud voice rang through my ears, causing my temple to throb.

"My head already hurts enough without you screaming," I moaned, resting my head on the soft pillow behind me.

"I apologize," he expressed softer this time, taking a seat in the chair by the computer desk. "How are you feeling?"

"Just dandy. Never been better. On top of he world." Doctor Rogers ignored my mock enthusiasm and proceeded to type things into the computer. A few seconds passed before either of us said anything else. "How long was I out for?" I asked, my eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"A little under a day and a half. We gave you medicine to keep you under while your body took time to healed itself."

"Well can you give me something that will help get rid of all of this pain?" I jeered. "Give me something that will knock me out."

He shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't. I instructed your nurses to give you medicine just before you woke up. They should start taking effect soon."

I huffed, partially because I was mad and partially because my body hurt so damn bad. I closed my eyes in an attempt to focus on something besides how I was feeling. "Speaking of my nurses," I started, "I want new ones."

"Really? You don't like Elizabeth and Christina?" He sounded taken aback.

"No," I replied dryly.

He was quiet for a few seconds, the clicking of his fingertips on the keyboard echoing sightly in the quaint room. "I get the feeling you don't like a lot of people," he finally spoke, his eyes not leaving the screen in front of him.

"I hate people," I mumbled under my breath.

He stalked over to the small desk on the far wall and then returned to his chair with a clipboard in hand. "Your manager got in contact with our hospital last night after you were brought here. We agreed that it would be best for you to stay here for the rest of the week. He hired a counselor for you that will come in every day to talk with you, then, once the week is over, you will continue sessions with him at his office on your own time."

I stared at him absently, trying to wrap my head around what I'd just been told. My heart drummed against my chest as I imagined sitting in a small room, answering personal questions about myself and my life and how I felt, etcetera. My lungs felt like they were constricting and I panicked. "No," I said breathlessly. "No. I refuse."

Doctor Rogers tapped his fingertips lightly atop his clipboard. "It's already been settled. Sending you to a rehab center was on the table too, but we arranged for you to meet with a therapist instead so you wouldn't have to go. But if things don't improve then that's your next option." My stomach clenched at the word 'rehab' and I suddenly realized the extent of the situation that I was in. I felt weaker by the second, like I could faint at any moment, and I feared I would have a breakdown right here, right now.

I inhaled a shaky breath and covered my face with my hands. "I need to be alone right now," I murmured, shrinking down in the hospital bed and turning away from him to watch raindrops on the window race down the glass in long streams. He opened the door and was about to leave yet the room when he turned around to face me again. "Your counselor's name is Joe Ransick. He will be here tomorrow afternoon." I prayed he wouldn't see the tears welling in my eyes. I didn't reply so he continued. "If it will put you at peace, I will assign you a new nurse." And with that, he stepped outside and let the door close behind him. I found it too difficult at that point to fend off the tears and finally fell apart. I was scared. I was really, truly scared. I never thought this would happen the way it did. I was supposed to be dead.

Tears pooled in my eyes and cascaded down my cheeks the way the raindrops outside surged down the windows. I found myself curled up in a ball underneath the thin white  
hospital blankets within a matter of minutes. The pain I had been feeling had begun to subside the longer I lied there, but I had stopped feeling pain a long time ago; I was numb now. The effects of the pain medication working its way through my system made me drowsy and I concentrated again on the sounds of my heart monitor, the slow, steady beeping lulling my gradually back to sleep.  
  
  
  
  
  


**. . .**   
  
  
  
  
  


The click of the door opening to my room startled me awake. I was still exhausted and I prayed for whoever it was that came in to do whatever they needed to and then leave so I could be alone. Of course, I had no such luck.

"Mr. Styles, I've brought you dinner," a gentle voice whispered, followed by the sound of aplastic tray being placed on a granite counter top.

I grunted and buried my face in the pillowcase. "I'm not hungry," I muttered, my voice low and groggy.

"You haven't eaten all day," they said. "It's not much. And if you eat this, then you won't have to eat again until breakfast tomorrow."

"I'm not hungry," I growled, annoyed that they wouldn't just drop it and leave me the hell alone so I could sleep. It was quiet and I would have been content with it if I knew that I was alone and not being watched like a vulture by the other person in the room. I thought I could ignore it but it didn't take long to realize that I couldn't.

"Are you still here?" I asked.

"Uh, yeah," the voice said. "I'm waiting."

"Forget it. You're wasting your time," I yawned, pulling the sheets tighter around me. "I'm not going to eat."

"Then I'm not going to leave."

I sighed, realizing it wasn't worth the fight. I didn't have the energy to argue.  I rolled over onto my back and sat up against my pillows. A tray was handed to me from my right and I stared down at it in my lap before looking in the direction of where it came.

A young girl, not much older than me, stood by my bedside. A small, unsure smile adorned her full pink lips and her brunette locks were pinned up into a bun atop her head. Her hospital scrubs did no justice to her seemingly natural elegance. Dark brown eyes radiated a certain warmth that suddenly made me feel not so upset anymore.

"I'm Charlie," she introduced and extended her hand towards me but retracted it after a few moments when she realized I was not going to shake it. "Uh, Dr. Roberts assigned me to you earlier today. He said you wanted a new nurse." I dropped her gaze and looked down at the meal on my lap, grimacing slightly at the food. It wasn't so much that I didn't like it so much as I didn't have much of an appetite. Charlie walked across the room to sit in the doctor's swivel chair. She sat backwards with her arms crossed resting on the back of the chair.

"Aren't you going to eat?" she asked, frowning when she realized I wasn't complying.

"I told you I'm not hungry." I picked up my fork and jabbed it into the mashed potatoes, twirling it around like a child resisting to eat his veggies would.

She rolled her eyes, obviously beginning to lose her patience. "I think you're just being stubborn to make our jobs harder."

_Who the fuck does she think she is to make assumptions? She doesn't know a goddamn thing about me._

"Then leave," I snapped, gritting my teeth in annoyance.

"Nope. I've been told to stay here to make sure you actually eat your food instead of throwing it away or flushing it down the toilet or something. So you're going to have to deal with it for the time being."

"I can't eat with you staring at me," I grumbled. She shrugged nonchalantly and that's when I really began to get fed up with her shitty attitude. "What the fuck is your problem?"

She took a deep breath and then released it slowly as though she was trying to pull herself together to keep from exploding. "I don't have a problem," she explained slowly, forcing a smile. "I'm just trying to do my job and right now that entails me making sure you eat."

I scoffed, but picked up my fork to begin cutting the meat on my tray. "How am I supposed to cut this without a knife?" I asked, slightly irritated at the fact that I didn't have one to begin with.

"I don't know," she said honestly. "They wouldn't let me bring a knife in here because the doctors were afraid that you would use it to hurt yourself again."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not stupid enough to do that here," I muttered, shoving a spoonful of mashed potatoes past my lips. The more I ate the more the meal reminded me of something an elementary school cafeteria would feed its students. I was twenty-four years old and here I was eating a lunch for nine year-olds under the watchful gaze of my annoying new nurse.

"I want a new nurse," I said in between bites of pork I had managed to pull apart with my fork and fingers. "I don't like you."

I glimpsed at Charlie and found her frowning, her eyebrows knitted together.  l thought for a minute that maybe I had actually hurt her feelings but then I remembered I didn't care.

"I'm sorry you feel that way but I'm assigned to you permanently. We will both have to find a way to deal with each other."

I sighed but didn't push the issue any further.  Instead, I focused on finishing off the food quickly in hopes that Charlie would leave once I finished. When my plate was empty I extended my tray in her direction and said, "I'm done. You can take it now."

"Drink your water first." She nodded at my glass and said, "You can't risk getting dehydrated."

I grabbed the glass from my bedside table and held it reluctantly, watching the liquid swish inside the cup. I forced myself to down it until it, too, was empty. The coolness of the drink soothed my throat and I felt refreshed afterwards, but of course I was too stubborn to say so. She smiled softly as I held it out to her and she stood up from her seat to take it from me. "Perfect. Thank you." Whatever, I thought. I just wanted you to get out of here. "Can I get you anything else?" she asked.

I looked around the room searching for something she could get me. My eyes locked on the TV. "Hand me the remote." She stalked over to pick it and up and I extended my hand to take it from her but she kept it just out of my reach.

"Say please," she requested.

I looked at her in disbelief. "You have got to be fucking kidding me."

"No, I'm not. Say please. I'm not asking you to beg, I'm asking for a little bit of respect. Then, I will give it to you."

"Please," I exaggeratedly articulated, "give me the remote." It came out scathingly but she didn't seem even the slightest bit perplexed, almost like she was used to this. Then she dropped it in my palm like she promised she would.

"Now was that so hard?" she asked.

I shrunk down in my bed and pressed the power button on the remote. "Harder than it should have been," I muttered.  
  
  
  
  
  


**. . .**   
  
  
  
  
  


My eyelids drooped more and more as ten o'clock approached. When I turned the TV on earlier I found a Harry Potter marathon on one of the family channels that caught my attention. I wanted to finish the rest of series because it was one of my favorites but that would call for another five plus hours and my body was begging me to sleep.

Just as Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince ended and the next movie was about to begin, the door to my room opened and Charlie peaked in. "Oh, good, you're still up," she said, stepping inside and closing the door behind her.

"Why are you here?" I asked, concealing a yawn in my hand.

"I was just stopping by to make sure you didn't need anything before I left for the night." She took a couple more steps inside and looked at the television screen. "Is this Harry Potter?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, I love Harry Potter!" she exclaimed, eyes bright. "Which one is it?"

"The sixth one," I replied hastily, turning the TV off. "Can you just do whatever you need to do so I can go to sleep?"

Her smile faltered, but she regained her composure a second later and nodded. "Uh, yeah. Sure. Can I turn on the lights?"

I shrugged weakly so she flipped on the light switch. My eyes stung at first from the sudden transition from dark to light, but they adjusted in time. Charlie stalked over to the counter across the way and grabbed the clipboard from one of the drawers. She scanned the contents of the paper, her eyes moving quickly from one thing to the next. "It looks like you have already taken enough medication to get you through the night. Do you need anything else?"

"I need you to leave so I can sleep," I said, fluffing my pillows.

She avoided eye contact as she put away a few things back into drawers and washed her hands but met my gaze as she extended a bag in my direction. "I brought you a toothbrush and some toothpaste from downstairs.  Use it if you want. I'll just leave it here." She placed the contents of the bag on the side table.  I wanted to reject the offer but decided that putting up a fight would take up too much of the energy that I didn't have so I stood up—shakily because my body was still in such a weak state—and made my way into the bathroom to make use of what I had been given.

The minty flavor of toothpaste was so much more refreshing than I would have ever imagine. I savored the taste while it lasted and then rinsed off the toothbrush, screwing the cap back on the toothpaste tube before opening the door and returning to my room. To my surprise Charlie was still there. She was standing on her toes struggling to rifle through the cabinets above the sink in search of something. I pulled back the blankets on my bed and slid into the space. "What are you still doing here? I expected you'd be gone by now." The words came out harsher than I'd expected and she must have noticed too because the moment she grabbed what she needed from the shelf, she slammed her hands on the counter, and whipped around to face me, startling me.

"Listen, asshole," she threatened. "I don't know what the _hell_ your problem is. My job is to help you, whether you like it or not. I get it, you don't want to be here. Nobody wants to be in this position, I understand, I really do. But I expect you to at least treat me like a goddamn human being.  I deal with self-righteous people like you all the time so I'm use to this treatment, but I'm not just going to stand by and let it happen. You think you're _soooo_ special because you're rich and famous, but guess what? You are just another patient in this hospital." She spun around and clutched the roll of gauze she'd retrieved from the shelf and held it up for me to see. "And to answer your question, I'm 'still here' because I thought I'd go out of my way to replace your arm bandages. But if you're going to bitch about it like you have everything else, I'll just leave."

I was caught off guard by her words; the anger she felt was prominent in her voice, on her face, and in her body language. I didn't know how to reply to something like that. I struggled to form words.

"N-no," I stammered. "Go ahead. I'm sorry." _Wow, Harry. Was that an apology? That's a first._

She exhaled a long sigh and combed her hair back out of her face. "Okay, then." She turned around to face the counter, taking a moment to collect herself before she proceed to thoroughly scrub her hands in the sink and dry them afterwards Charlie grabbed the gauze and walked to my bedside, pulling a chair up behind her. I would be lying if I said I wasn't a little bit intimidated by her. Nobody had ever spoken to me in that way.

The tension in the room was frighteningly high and I felt like I was suffocating all of a sudden, like the silence would swallow me up. I diverted my eyes to my fumbling fingers and cleared my throat uncomfortably.

I fixated my gaze on her face as she carefully began to unravel the old bandages from my left arm. Her temper from a few moments ago seemed to have cooled; she now looked focused. Her hands were gentle as she held my damaged arm with such intense care and attention. I was so transfixed with her concentration that I didn't have the chance to prepare myself for what came next until I felt the chilly hospital air brush over the fresh wounds on my wrist. I glimpsed down and my throat tightened as I inhaled a sharp breath at the sight. It was a lot more to take in then I could have ever imagined. My skin was ravaged; thick, long, ugly cuts sliced through my flesh in every which way. It reminded me of when I'd inflicted the damage of myself in the first place. I remembered how it burned like my arms were on fire and how the blood flowed out in perfect red waterfalls onto the bathroom floor. I remembered the feeling of control and how it hurt so good to just _be_. _in. control._  
"Are you alright?" Charlie asked worriedly. "You look like you have seen a ghost. Why don't you sit back?" My mouth was too dry to form words so I just nodded my head. I fell back against the pillows and inhaled a deep breath to remain calm.

Charlie threw away the dirty bandages and returned to her seat quietly. "I'm sorry if this hurts," she said under her breath. "I'll try to be careful." She took the fresh gauze in her hands and stretched out a long piece. She held the start of the bandage to the top of I'll my arm and then began wrapping it around the circumference of my wrists in a spiral. I hissed as it made contact with the soreness of my skin, but Charlie held my arm in place so I wouldn't pull away. Her sole focus was on wrapping my arm as gently as possible without inflicting any pain. I appreciated the extra time she spent doing this. It kind of made me regret being a dick to her all day.

Once she finished the first arm, she pulled her chair to the opposite side of my bed and began on my right arm next. She followed the same routine as before as I sat with my arm extended and my eyes glued to the ceiling so I wouldn't have to witness the damage a second time. I hardly noticed when Charlie finished until she walked the roll of gauze back to its rightful place in the cabinet.

"Is there anything else you need before I go? I won't be back until tomorrow morning, but there are other nurses here if you need them." She sounded tired and I couldn't blame her honestly. I shook my head in response.  "Okay I'll see you first thing tomorrow, then. Try not to make it a living Hell for the other nurses tonight either. If you're going to make it Hell for anyone, make it Hell for me."

Just as she was about to walk out I murmured a quick 'thank you' under my breath, and, if my eyes weren't deceiving me, and what I thought I saw had been real, I caught a quick glimpse of her hiding a small grin into her shoulder.  
  
  
  
  
  


**_A/N: Welcome to my story Excelsior! It's a pleasure to be writing this story and I sincerely hope you all enjoy it. Please vote and comment if you liked this chapter(: I'll hopefully update again soon._ **

**_Also, in the words of Liam Payne... I'd like to give out a MASSIVE, MASSIVE thank you to my new friend Jess for creating the cover for this story._ **

**_My name on Twitter is @ExcelsiorLou so don't be afraid to hit me up! I'd love to talk to you guys!_ **

**_Cute as a button, every single one of you(:_ **

**_-Mia <3_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Welcome to my story Excelsior! It's a pleasure to be writing this story and I sincerely hope you all enjoy it. Please vote and comment if you liked this chapter(: I'll hopefully update again soon.
> 
> Also, in the words of Liam Payne... I'd like to give out a MASSIVE, MASSIVE thank you to my new friend Jess for creating the cover for this story.
> 
> My name on Twitter is @KissesFromZiall so don't be afraid to hit me up! I'd love to talk to you guys!
> 
> Cute as a button, every single one of you(:  
> -Mia<3


	4. Chapter 2

***Harry's POV***

 

_Chaos. If there was a single word to describe what I was witnessing, it was chaos._

_People ran in every direction to escape the turmoil, but there was no escape. We were all victims of Death. Death was unavoidable but still we ran from it, hoping deep down that maybe we could escape its clutches, but by the looks of it, we stood no chance against Its unceasing path of destruction. Buildings crumbled and houses burned. People lied massacred in the streets covered in blood, guts and gore because Death spared no one; not men, not women, not children, not anyone._

_Death struck when you least expected It to; a glimpse of hope would appear and before you knew it, it would shatter in the blink of an eye, until the next thing you knew you found yourself lying dead alongside your dead friends and family. It was a brutal cycle._

_As for me? I was in the midst of the disaster. I was too consumed by my surroundings to think rationally. The sight of this absolute and utter chaos left me speechless._ What if this was Hell? _Surely such a vicious spectacle had to be the work of the Devil._ What if I was already dead? What if this was my 'forever'. What if these were the consequences I had to face for my sins?

 _I wrapped my arms around myself and felt_ _my existence_ _. When I squeezed I fe_ _lt_ _flesh and_ _bones and_ warmth _._ _I was alive._ _I was a physical being_ _._ _Death HADN'T gotten_ _to_ _me..._ _a_ _t least not yet._ _I had been too consumed by the turmoil surrounding me to realize that I still had a chance of surviving._ _The odds were against me, b_ _ut now I knew I was alive and that was all the motivation I needed._ _The moment this discovery set in, I collected myself enough to break away from my trance and side-step bloody corpses littering the ground at my feet. I ran far away from where I had started and focused on survival alone._

 _"Help me!"_   _a woman shrieked from my right, startling me. She trudged up to me and grabbed me by the shoulders._ _"Help me, please!" she cried.  I couldn't help but notice how she seemed to age right before my eyes.  Her once brown hair turned to a stringy gray and her skin began deteriorating with each passing second._ _Her eyes dripped blood like tears and stained her clothes the brightest red I'd ever seen._ _I was so taken back by her appearance that I struggled to form a coherent sentence._

 _"I-I don't know. I'm sorry_ — _"_

_She cut me off abruptly as her body began racking itself with uncontrollable coughs_ _, blood spewing from her mouth with each sharp, painful hack. Droplets landed on my shirt, dying it crimson red.  I shook beneath her grip, unsure of what to do or how to react until s_ _he froze suddenly and then_ _collapsed directly in front of me._ _Her blood-shot eyes rolled back in her head as she went limp, leaving me in shock. I stood there conflicted about what to do. I wanted to help her but she was dead.  Nothing I would do could save her. So I ran. I ran far away from her, the chaos, everything, m_ _y heart pounding against my chest in time with my shoes striking the pavement._

_Once I stumbled along a familiar road I followed it back to my house. To my surprise, when I arrived, it was in immaculate condition, unlike the thousands of other buildings crumbling and decaying at that very moment. In fact, it almost looked_ inviting _; the lawn was trimmed to perfection, the windows glistening, the front door beckoning.  Had I been in my right mind at the time I would maybe have decided against going inside, but unfortunately I wasn't. Without a second thought, I was already running towards the house, slamming the front door closed and locking all of the doors behind me. I huffed a sigh of relief at being inside the comfort of my own home, but still, it didn't feel like enough. After taking a moment to collect myself, breathing in the familiar air around me, I_ _sprinted up the stairs to my bedroom and shut the door quickly. It was then that I finally began to feel the security of my bedroom sinking in. I felt a weight being gradually lifted from my shoulders as my back slid down the door, the events of the day finally setting in. I rested my forehead against my knees and closed my eyes._ _Sitting there, I wasn't sure how much time passed—it could have been seconds, minutes or even hours. I felt weightless, almost as if I was in a dream..._

 _I could have pondered the concept further if my train of thought hadn't been interrupted by a sudden rush of saturated liquid seeping under the crack of my bedroom door. Alarmed, I jumped from my spot only to see a stream of thick, red fluid pouring into the room. The once fresh, clean air now tasted distinctly of copper, almost as if it were.._. 

Oh.

Oh no.

Not blood.

Please, no blood.

 _My lungs collapsed in my chest as I realized that I was no longer safe, that I never_ was _safe._ _I backed away from the door, watching the blood ooze through even quicker than before. My fingers pulled at the messy curls on top of my head, desperate for an idea or something that I could do to stop this from happening._

_In a burst of what I could only think to call a fight or flight instinct, I tore my comforter off my bed and shoved it under the door to stop the flood from permeating my bedroom.  Meanwhile, I searched frantically for an exit_ _as the blood soaked everything from my ankles down_ _._ _I dashed through the ever-growing puddles to the windows, but when I reached them, I found that they were stuck and nothing I did would open or break them. I pounded on them furiously and threw chairs, tables, heavy clay art pieces, and even myself at the windows but it was no use. There was no escaping this._

_While I was still focused on breaking my way out of my room, I hadn't noticed pressure building behind the door, causing it to swell immensely. I heard the groaning of wood as it bulged  more and more with each passing second until it burst open with a loud_ crack _, splitting the door right down the middle. I turned at the sound in time to see large, broken planks of wood flying directly past me, no more than an inch shy of hitting me head-on. After the door broke, there was nothing stopping the_ _river of blood from pouring mercilessly into the room._

_The level of blood rose as time passed. It was now all the way up to my waist.  What startled me most was the warmth it held, almost as though it were fresh from the source. The scent of blood was stronger than ever and it forced me to empty my stomach of its contents. Shaking, I backed myself up against the wall furthest from the door frame and watched helplessly as the pools of red filled the room, taking down everything in its path. Everybody had their own fresh Hells, so I figured this was mine—drowning in the inescapable, murky depths of lukewarm gore._

_The crimson liquid poured into the room impossibly quick, engulfing me wholly as time passed. It wasn't until I glimpsed down that I noticed the tears sprinkling my shirt.  I felt their warm presence on my cheeks, but when I went to wipe them away, I noticed my wrists were torn open, blood flowing from them like waterfalls.  I turned my hands over shakily and found that my knuckles were now soaked with blood and not tears. And that was when I officially lost it._

_I_ _screamed until my lungs ached and my voice became hoarse; I pounded on the walls until my fists were raw and my cracked skin bled._ _The overwhelming sensation of the dense blood drenching my being and immersing my entirety made me feel weak and powerless against_ _its clutches_ _. I stood no chance as the blood rose to just below my chin, causing me to gasp_ _desperately for more air as I slowly succumbed to Death. I'd never been more terrified in my life than in the moment that I took my last and final breath..._

 

 

**. . .**

 

 

I opened my eyes in alarm and found myself gasping hysterically for air, my mind still thinking I was on the verge of drowning. My heart raced and my body shook relentlessly in fear.  It took me a long time to realize I was not in danger of drowning, or dying for that matter.  I remembered that I was in the hospital and not in my own home as my eyes shifted frantically around the room, ensuring that there was no blood pouring in from the windows or doors. I looked down at my wrists and saw that they were wrapped in gauze and not cascading blood down my arms. My hands pressed softly to my face and felt the dampness of tears streaming from my eyes. Looking at my palms afterwards I was relieved to see they were wet with tears and not blood like they were in my dream.

In an attempt to calm my heart and nerves, I closed my eyes and inhaled a couple of long, deep breaths.  The world around me was dark and silent, like I was the only person left on earth and it frightened me.  Shakily, I swept my feet over the side of the bed and slid out from under my covers.  The floor was cold against my feet and I flinched a bit at the contact.  I made my way over to the door of my hospital room and peeked through the small, narrow window.  The floor seemed completely void of people, but under further observation, I noticed a nurse rifling through files at the reception desk.  

Turning on my heels, I stalked over to the sink in my room. I filled a cup with water and drank it slowly, savoring the coolness on the back of my dry throat.  I also took a moment to wet a towel and wipe the beads of sweat from my neck and forehead.  Now that I could finally breathe and all of my worries were assuaged, I felt better, more relaxed, like I could breathe.  It reminded me that I liked breathing.  Thinking back to my dream, gave me chills, though.  The feeling of it all was so real it was uncanny.  I felt like I was actually there—I felt the adrenaline in my veins, the fear in my mind, the blood on my skin.  It was nothing like I had ever experienced before and something I would never like to experience in the future.

I shook the thoughts from my mind and downed another cup of water before returning to my bed. The clock on the wall read 3:17AM, but I grabbed the remote control by my bedside and flipped on the TV because I had no desire to fall asleep any time soon.

 

 

**. . .**

 

 

"Good morning," Charlie chirped as she opened the door to my room, seemingly in a better mood than yesterday.  She came inside with a breakfast tray in hand.  I pushed myself upright and rubbed my eyes tiredly, extending my hand to take the tray from her. "How did you sleep?" she asked as she walked over to the sink to wash her hands.

"Fine," I lied through a yawn.  She sent me a dubious look over her shoulder as though she wasn't sure she believed me, but she didn't push. Charlie dried her hands with a towel and then took a seat in the doctor's chair with her eyes trained on me.

Looking at the tray in my lap, my breakfast consisted of a bowl of dry Cheerios, a piece of french toast, fruit cocktail, and a glass of milk. I grabbed the glass of milk and poured it into the bowl of dry cereal and stirred it with a spoon. With a spoonful of Cheerios raised to my lips, I locked eyes with Charlie. "Are you going to sit in here again while I eat?" She hummed and I sighed, placing the spoon down on the tray in defiance. "Why?"

She shook her head absentmindedly and and smiled amusingly. "Because I don't trust you.  You haven't done anything to earn my trust."  She sat back in the chair and folded her arms.  "In fact, you've done quite the opposite."

I rolled my eyes but I knew she was right.  After the shit I pulled yesterday, I didn't exactly blame her. "Okay, fine. What do I have to do to make you trust me enough for you to leave?"

She tapped her chin as she mulled over the question in her head. "I'm not sure. I mean, I don't _know_ you."

I stirred the cereal around the ceramic bowl with my plastic utensil and thought about how to respond.   _Would it help if I told her about myself?  Is it worth opening up to her just to get her off my back?_  "What do you wanna know? " I asked reluctantly. "Maybe, like, we can come to a compromise so that you don't have to hover over me like a vulture every time I eat a bloody meal."

"I'll consider it," she murmured.

"Okay... so, like, what do you want to know?" I avoided her eyes, feeling a bit uncomfortable and skirmish under her gaze.

"I expect a _full-blown_ autobiography from you," she gently teased.

I ignored her sarcasm and took a small bite out of my french toast. "I suck at telling people about myself."

"Why don't I just ask and you answer?"

"Fine, but if it starts turning into a version of 'what naughty things have I done in the past 'twenty questions, I'm gonna have to put this to an end," I replied, half-jokingly.

Charlie playfully sulked. "Oh, don't be a killjoy, Harry." I shrugged and hid a smile into my water glass. "Can I start now?" she inquired.

I swallowed. "Yeah, alright. Go for it."

"Hm, okay, so tell me..." She looked around the room carefully, and then motioned for me to lean in closer like she was about to spill a secret.  I leaned in as she whispered alluringly, "What naughty things _have_ you done?"

I groaned in annoyance and pulled away from her as she wiggled her eyebrows at me. "Charlie..."

"Alright, alright," she giggled. "I was just messing with you. Full name. Go."

"Harry Edward Styles," I stated, pushing my tray to the side and adjusting so that I was sitting up, all of my attention now on her.

"Just Harry?"

"Uh, yeah.  Just Harry."

"Not Harold?"

"No."

"Harrelson?"

"No."

"Harley Davidson?"

"No! Move onto the next question!" I half-laughed, half-shouted.

"Okay, okay!  How old are you?"

"Twenty-four."

"Wow! We already have something in common," she smirked, and I just shook my head, trying not to smile. "Favorite food?"

"Bananas."

"Seriously?" I nodded and she noticeably grimaced. "Gross, but whatever. Favo—"

"Woah, woah, woah."  I was astonished. I was awestruck.  I was... _disgusted._  "Bananas? Gross? I can't- I just... Leave.  I can't- I can't even bare to look at you right now," I breathed, dramatically, clutching my heart as though I was in pain.

"Oh, don't be such a child," she waved.  "There's better food in the world than bananas." I was prepared to argue with her, but she cut me off before I could.

"Favorite color?"

"Orange."

"Ah. I'm more of a green kind of girl."

I speculated her answer and added, "I can see that."

"Really? How?"

"Don't know. I can just... see you liking green."

"Interesting..." she smiled.  "Favorite body part?"

"Boobs," I winked, raising my eyebrows suggestively.

"Oh my god," she laughed. "I meant favorite part of your _own_ body."

" _Boobs_ ," I said again, this time cupping my chest.  She glared at me, clearly unamused, but I laughed because I thought I was pretty damn funny. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. It wouldn't kill you to laugh, you know."

"Yes it would."

"Whatever. But to answer your question, I don't know. I don't really like my body all that much." I was surprised by how easily it flowed out of my mouth, like I had no filter, and I already wished I could take it back.

"Oh, come on, you have to like something about yourself," Charlie insisted.

"Hm, I guess my hands maybe."

"Why?"

"Because they're weirdly large," I explained and wiggled them in her direction.

"All the better for fondling your boobs, am I right?"

"Of course," I laughed heartily. She glimpsed down at her lap and twiddled her thumbs, giggling to herself.  I couldn't help smiling a bit too. "Just out of curiosity, though, do girls _really_ fondle their boobs?"

She considered the question for a moment before replying with a surprisingly straightforward, "Yes."

"Oh my God."

"Not like all the time, though!" she defended quickly. "I mean, they're just... _there_ and sometimes you get curious!"

I shielded my eyes. "Too much information."

"You're so juvenile," she groaned, rolling her eyes sarcastically. 

"So what's next?" I asked.

"Biggest fear?"

My mind flashed back to last night's dream and how it ended not-so-happily with me drowning in a pool of blood. The mere reminder of the graphic hallucination raised hairs on the back of my neck. "Drowning," I admitted a little too quickly.

She tilted her head curiously.  "Explain."

"Well, when I was about four years old I accidentally fell into a pool and I didn't know how to swim yet and I almost drowned."  A chill ran up my spine at the memory.  "If it weren't for my sister, I probably would have died."

"So I'm guessing you don't swim."

"I don't mind being _in_ a pool, I just don't go any more than waist-deep. It just- it kind of haunts me."

She nodded understandingly and didn't push the issue further. "Alright, let me think of some more." She tapped her chin thoughtfully and said settled on asking me, "What do you do for a living?"

"You know what I do. You said so yesterday."

"I _do_ know. I just want you to tell me more about it."

"O-kay... well, I'm a solo-artist and I have been for the past four years. I signed a contract with my management when I was twenty and I've been in the music industry ever since."

"Do you like it?"

"Like what? The job?"

"The job. Being famous. Everything."

"Oh." I diverted my eyes to the window where I noticed a steady rain had just started up. "I don't really know. Like, sometimes it has its perks," I wrapped my arms around myself and massaged my biceps, "but I struggle with it a lot."

"What do you mean?"

"What do you mean what do I mean?"

"Like, do you wanna know about the perks or...?"

"No, I wanna know why you struggle with it."

I sighed. "It's hard because there's pressure on you _constantly_ —pressure to look a certain way, pressure to act a certain way, pressure to talk a certain way. Having so many people watching me and depending on me every single day is more of a burden than you would think."

"Is that why you tried to kill yourself?" she asked seriously, catching me off guard.

"You wouldn't understand," I said quietly, watching small raindrops race down the window as the light rain transitioned into an outright downpour. _Typical England._

"You don't know that," Charlie asserted, sitting up straighter in the chair.

"Trust me. You wouldn't."

"Then why don't you help me understand," she quipped. "I wouldn't be asking you this if I didn't think I could handle the answer."

"It's not that I don't think you can handle it, it's that it's just- it's... complicated."

"I won't judge you," she replied, more gently than I expected.  "It's just something that's crossed my mind ever since you were admitted here.  I don't mean to be ignorant, it's just that you have this extraordinary job and lavish lifestyle that most people can only _dream_ of. People look up to you. You have fans who dedicate their lives to you. So what happened? What made you want to end your life?"

I bowed my head and massaged my temples. "You just don't _get_ it, do you?"

"No. I don't.  And I don't claim to.  That's why I want you to talk to me. I want to understand."

I exhaled a quick breath and shook my head. "Fine. You really want to know? Let me lay it all out for you. All people see when they look at me is some product of the music industry. They put labels on me and they tell me how I should live my life. I'm a fucking _puppet_ to them. I can't even speak without people taking my words and throwing them back in my face the wrong way." I stopped suddenly, feeling my blood pressure rising with each passing second.  I glimpsed in Charlie's direction to see her face soft, but her body tense, like she pitied me, but was also unprepared for what I might say next.  "You just- you'll never _get_ it. The world is so fucking mean, Charlie. People will do anything to provoke you and make your life miserable. I've been through it all.  Fame isn't all it's cut out to be.  I'm not the person I used to be.  I don't even remember who I was before all of this. My world is crumbling. My job isn't the dream it used to be.  My life is a test that I can't ever pass because every single answer I choose is the wrong one. I needed to escape. I can't just back out of this anymore; I'm in too deep."

The words flowed out of my mouth like pen on paper as I felt the all-too-familiar feeling of my lungs growing weaker took over my chest.  _No Harry. Don't choke._ I paused and inhaled slowly to steady my rapid breathing and accelerating heart rate.

Charlie softly placed a hand on my arm, the gentleness of her touch so foreign to me. My eyes locked with hers and that's when I noticed the tears welling up in her eyes. "It's alright," she soothed, her hand falling back to her side. "I understand. You don't have to say anything else." I watched her as she pushed her chair back and stood from her seat, taking the empty tray from my lap.

"I didn't mean to upset you," I mumbled quietly, watching sheepishly from my bed as Charlie organized the contents of the counter and skimmed over my chart.

"You didn't upset me," she assured, but the tears in her eyes said otherwise.  "I'll come back in a few hours to bring you lunch, alright? Just call if you need anything before then. And remember that your counselor comes in today at twelve o'clock." She sent a half-smile in my direction and opened the door to exit the room.

"Wait, I didn't get to ask _you_ any questions," I called to her.

"Don't worry. I didn't forget. We'll talk later," she promised. I didn't reply as I fell back into the pillows on my bed and stared blankly up at the ceiling.

"And Harry?"

I tilted my head in the direction of where she stood and met her gaze.  The way she was biting her lip told me she was nervous to say whatever was on her mind. "I like, just- I wanted to say that I'm glad you're here now, safe and not, _you know_. I know you think you'd be better off dead, but I disagree. I think that if you try hard enough, like, really, really try, you can pull through and change your life for the better." She shrugged and turned to grip the door handle with her palm. "I realize how cliche that sounds... I don't know.  I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have said anything."

"No," I replied, shaking my head. "You don't have to apologize. I- just... thank you." I exhaled slowly, and turned my head to stare up at the ceiling again, tracing the designs with my eyes. I heard the handle to my room turning, followed by a _click_ , signaling that Charlie had officially gone.

 

 

**_A/N: Hello lovelies (: xx_ **

**_Please comment and vote if you liked this chapter! I'd love to hear your thoughts! Also, thanks a million for reading what I've uploaded so far!_ **

**_Cute as a button, every single one of you(:_ **

**_-Mia <3_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello lovelies (: xx
> 
> Please comment and vote if you liked this chapter! I'd love to hear your thoughts! Also, thanks a million for reading what I've uploaded so far!
> 
> Have a great rest of your day!
> 
> Cute as a button, every single one of you(:  
> -Mia<3


	5. Chapter 3

***Harry's POV***

 

A knock on the door echoed through my hospital room causing my eyes to flee from the show on the television. I met the eyes of an unfamiliar man as he pulled opened the door and made his way into the room. He wore a pair of sleek black dress pants that accentuated his tall stature and a white button-up shirt with the sleeves pushed up to the crease of his elbows. The man acknowledged my presence with a curt nod and then took a seat in the doctor's chair.

It fell silent between the man and I as we sat in the startlingly claustrophobic space. I rubbed my eyes with my palms to keep from looking at him sitting just a couple feet away. His mere presence irritated me.

"Hi Harry. I'm Joe Ransick. I'll be your counselor for the rest of the week." I stared at him blankly until he felt the need to clear his throat and adjust his position. "Right, so it's nice meeting you," he eventually said.

I huffed. "I'm not going to talk to you," I stated matter-of-fact. "You might as well leave. Your time here will be wasted."

"I'm afraid I can't do that," he responded.

I laughed bitterly. "Oh, no. I assure you you can. The door," I pointed to the entryway, "is right there. Nobody has to know. Leave and don't come back."

"This is my job, Harry. I can't just give up. But if it'll make things easier for you, I'll suggest that _you_ run this session."

"What a grand idea!" I sarcastically enthused. I clasped my hands tightly together and declared, "Session canceled!"

He completely disregarded my cutting sarcasm. "We can talk about whatever _you_ want to talk about. I'm putting you in charge." I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "Harry, I'm giving you the freedom to talk about _anything_ you want."

I tapped my chin faux-thoughtfully. "Hm, why don't we discuss about how much I hate _people_?" I hissed, glaring so hard I think I could have burned a hole through him.

He pondered my biting remark for a moment and then shrugged. "Sure, I don't see why not." He leaned back in the chair and folded his arms tightly over his chest. "If that's what you want to talk about, then let's talk about it."

"Yes, let's talk about this, _Joe_." I pushed myself up from my half-sitting, half-lying position and cracked my knuckles as I began. "Let's talk about how _repulsive_ the general population is." I expected my bluntness and seething tone to make him squirm, _at least a little bit_ , but he seemed unphased.

"Alright, where to begin... Oh! Okay, let's start with why I'm here in the first place. Let's talk about how I was pushed and pushed and _pushed_ by these people until I felt that I no longer had a reason to live. I've never been able to trust one single goddamn person because they never fail to let me down. They tell you again and again that they'll always be there for you and that you can trust them, but when you _really_ need them, they are nowhere to be found. People are—people are _liars_."

"I presume you speak from experience," he chimed in.

My gaze hardened. "Yes, _Joe_ , I do. People have fed off my insecurities and twisted my words and torn me apart for _years_."

"Do you think everyone is like that? Do you think all people are bad?"

"I think more people are bad than good," I countered.

"And what about you? Are you good or are you bad?"

His question took me by surprise and I didn't have an answered prepared. "I _used_ to be good," I decided. "At least, I'd like to think I was." My eyes fell away from his face and I focused on the world outside the window instead. "But things have changed," I admitted, sighing slightly. "I know I'm bitter and I know I have problems. I tried to kill myself for fuck's sake." My eyes narrowed and shook my head. "But I'm sure _you_ wouldn't understand what that's like," I spat.

"You'd be surprised," Joe added, clearing his throat.

I scoffed. "You obviously don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"I tried to commit suicide when I was eighteen years old," he stated unflinchingly.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't at least a little bit intrigued by his confession, but I didn't want to seem eager. "Why?" I asked plainly. "Looking for attention?"

I watched him flinch at that and I almost felt bad— _almost_. "Because, like you, I didn't think I deserved to live," he told me honestly. "I was surrounded by people who didn't care about me, only what I was willing to do. I got involved in some pretty serious drugs and alcohol and soon I felt the crushing weight of reality telling me unworthy of living this pathetic excuse of a life. I was lost and alone." And then I understood. Because I'd been there _so many_ times before.

I looked down at lap and traced the bandages on my forearms softly with my index finger. "What did you do," I asked quietly.

He planted his feet flat on the ground and slouched over so that his elbows rested on his knees as he talked. "I won't go into great detail, but I tried to hang myself. As sure as I was at the time that I wanted to go through with it, I remember how scared I was. I knew that this wasn't what life was supposed to be like. I needed a sign. I needed something to tell me not to go through with it." He paused momentarily. "And then, it came." And I rolled my eyes because I figured he was going to say something like, "by the grace of God... I survived" and truthfully, I just didn't think I would be able to keep my mouth shut if he did. But then he finished his thought. "I doubt I would be around today if it wasn't for _her._ "

 _Her?_ _Well that was a bit unexpected._

"Who?" I inquired.

"She was one of my oldest and closest friends. Alyssa. We were inseparable when we were younger, but as I started..." he trailed off as if to ponder how to phrase the rest of his sentence, "changing," he decided, "she pulled away. She didn't want to get mixed up with me and my new lifestyle.

"I still remember the day so vividly," he said nostalgically. "Standing on the chair in my basement, the rope around my neck and everything. And then I heard the pounding on my front door. I shakily made my way up the stairs to the door, realizing how close I actually was to _doing_ it. I opened the front door and she was there, eyes red and puffy as she explained to me that her mom's fight with cancer had failed."

"But why you?" I asked. "If she cut off all ties with you, why did she come to you over everyone else."

"Because I knew her mother longer and better than any of her other friends. She was first diagnosed with cancer when we were fourteen and I was around for a couple years as she fought it. I was there when she started chemo and I was there when she shaved off all of her hair. I was there for Alyssa through so many hard times, so when it happened, she _needed_ me. And at this point in my life, I sure as _hell_ needed her.

"So we grew closer again. I supported her through her devastating loss and she supported me as I made some serious changes in my life. It just... worked. And now, after eight long years of marriage, we have three children, two of which are twins. We've never been in a better, more stable place.

"Why are you telling me all of this?" I muttered. "Yeah, I get it. We're not so different, blah, blah, blah. But what do you expect me to do? Reunite with somebody from my past and live happily ever after? Like, congratulations. _You_ pulled through. But it doesn't mean everybody does."

"I'm saying that you need to find your sign, your reason for being here. Committing suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. I learned that I play a bigger part in someone else's life than I ever thought possible, and for me, that's as good a reason as any to live. Now, I will say that I realize our situations aren't exactly the same. I haven't been through all of the things you have, but I do know that having a support system is important and you need to find one."

And with that, Joe stood up and began gathering his belongings. "Wait, where are you going?" I questioned. "Our session isn't over yet. We still have," I looked at the clock, "forty-five more minutes."

"We talked through a lot of stuff today and I know you aren't exactly up for discussion. We can pick this back up again tomorrow."

"Yeah, okay."  
  
  


**. . .**   
  
  
  


I cupped my hands under the bathroom faucet and collected enough cold water to splash on my face. The feeling of refreshment was almost instantaneous and I repeated the process a couple more times. My hair was notted and messy, but I didn't have anything with me to fix it with, so I resorted to combing my fingers through it as best I could. It didn't help all that much, but at least I put in some effort. Stalking back into my room, I heard the door to the room closing and I exited the toilet to see Charlie in front of the sink with a lunch tray on the counter beside her.

"Afternoon," she greeted while drying off her wet hands with a paper towel.

I nodded and sat myself on the edge of the bed, facing her as she extended her hand to me. "What's on the menu today?" I asked before taking the tray from her.

She plopped down into the chair by my bedside and examined the food. "Chicken noodle soup and mashed potatoes. You got lucky too. I watched them prepare a fresh batch of soup a couple minutes before they gave me yours."

My stomach growled and we both chuckled. "I guess I'm hungry, then." I picked up the plastic spoon on the tray and stirred the mixture, watching the steam rise from the bowl in wisps until they disappeared into thin air.

"So, how was your counseling session today? I know it was your first one this week."

"It was okay," I admitted. And I was actually being pretty honest. Sure, I blew him off a lot at first, but like—I don't know. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.

Her eyebrow arched in interest. "Oh, really?" I nodded, scooping a spoonful of potatoes into my mouth. "That's great," she smiled. "That's _really_ great. I'm happy it worked out."

I hummed in agreement and then spent the next couple minutes finishing off my meal. Time passed in silence as I ate and she waited. Once I finished I handed her my tray and she took it over to the counter. My eyes wandered around the hospital room as she read through my sheet, my gaze drifting from dull wall to duller wall, from floor to ceiling, from one grey cabinet to the next. The clock seemed to be ticking particularly slow today and I sighed.

"Something wrong?" Charlie inquires, glancing up from her clipboard.

"Nothing," I replied. "I just... this room is so _boring._ It just sucks the life out of me when I'm stuck in it for so long."

"Why didn't you say something sooner? I can take you outside."

I narrowed my eyes, a little disbelievingly. "Are you for real?"

"I mean, like, if I get permission from Doctor Roberts, we can go sit outside for a little while. But, I mean, like, only if you want to."

" _Yes_." I said, perhaps a little too eagerly. I cleared my throat awkwardly and then restated my answer, only more calmly this time. "Yes," I said again. "I would love that."

"Alright, I'll go talk to him to make sure he knows." My eyes followed Charlie as she crossed the tiled floor and exited the room, the door clicking shut behind her.  A rush of elation flowed through me at the idea of leaving this claustrophobic hellhole and I anxiously awaited her return. Sitting in a hospital bed staring at four walls every day for a week wasn't exactly my idea of a good time. So the second she opened the door and stepped inside, I bombarded her with questions.

"Did you talk to him? What did he say? Did he tell you it was okay for me to leave?"

She giggled and tossed me a fresh hospital shirt.  "Don't be so dramatic," she said.  "But yeah, he said it was fine."

I broke into a grin and scooted to the edge of my bed.

"What's this for?" I asked, gesturing to the shirt and running my hands quickly through my hair as I stood up.

"I just thought you'd like a fresh shirt, so I grabbed one for you on the way back."  I thanked her and she walked out of the room to wait for me while I changed. The fresh clothing felt nice against my skin; refreshing even. It was the little things that made a big difference.

When I walked through the door, Charlie was leaning back against the wall absentmindedly, waiting for me.

"Ready?" she asked.

"Ready," I confirmed.

 

**. . .**

 

As I followed Charlie through the hospital, the butterflies in my stomach multiplied exponentially. She lead the way down a long corridor to the elevator where we both rode down several floors to the main lobby. The hospital was very alive and very busy.  Doctors and nurses went about their businesses, floating around the hospital hallways and visiting patients in their rooms, some carrying supplies and others talking to patients.  

I caught a glimpse of a large set of windows in the direction we were headed and my body tingled in anticipation.  My eyes located the front entrance and my stomach warmed as we approached. The doors slid open automatically as we arrived, Charlie just a couple steps ahead of me. I hesitated a brief moment before exiting the building, but once I walked through the sliding glass doors, I felt like a changed man.

For once in this god-forsaken city, it was actually sunny. The courtyard looked as though it had just been trimmed and I inhaled the scent of freshly cut grass. My first few steps into the sunlight were truly sensational.  I hummed at the peaceful nature of the soft wind blowing gently against my face.

"Feels great, huh?" Charlie murmured, taking a seat on a bench against the building.

"Yeah," I agreed, the sun's rays like angel kisses on my cheeks. I stood in the sunlight for a long while before taking a seat beside Charlie on the bench. I indulged in the overwhelming sensation of freedom and then sighed.

"You know, I'll be totally honest—I didn't think I would ever get to see daylight again after what I did."  I swallowed the hard lump forming in my throat and avoided Charlie's fixed stare. I lifted my head and stared across the parking lot to the street where cars passed frequently. My shoulders slumped as I hunched over and put my face in my hands.

"Hey," Charlie soothed. "Everything's okay.  You're alright now."

"No," I countered. "Everything is _not_ okay.  I tried to kill myself, Charlie.  How can you possibly say that I'm alright."

"You're alright because you're safe and you're _alive_ ," she emphasized.  "I  understand that you may not fully recover from this... setback, but you still need to give yourself credit where credit is due."  She slid closer to me on the bench and rested her hand gently on the small of my back. I flinched away at first but relaxed again after another moment. "Realize that you're getting help and that you have the ability to improve your life; you just have to find a way to overcome it. You just... like... you just need—ugh! What's it called?" she mumbled in frustration.

"To be positive?" I suggested.

"No, there's a word for what I'm thinking of and it's on the tip of my tongue." She rested her head back on the bench and stared up at the sky, thinking.  When it finally came to her, her eyes widened and she turned to me. "Excelsior! Yes!  That's the word."

"What?"

"Excelsior.  It's a Latin word that means 'still higher' or 'ever upwards'."

"I still don't understand," I said, adjusting to face her.

"Think of it like this," she explained. "'Excelsior' embraces the idea of reaching a higher point—a point that you want to be able to get to in your lifetime. It's like setting a goal for the future. You want to move up, become happier and do greater things with your life, right?" I nodded a little unsurely. "Well just think of 'excelsior' as your motivation."

The more I thought about it, the more I understood it.   _Excelsior,_ I thought.  And then I said it out loud.  I tasted the word for the first time, rolling it smoothly off of my tongue.  I liked it. I leaned my back against the bench and crossed my arms over my chest, replaying the word in my head and its meaning.  If I was going to seriously consider starting anew, perhaps abiding by a motivational mantra wouldn't be the worst idea.

Minutes passed as the tranquility of the great outdoors overwhelmed my senses.  At this point, I wanted nothing less than to return to my hospital room when my time out here was finally up. But maybe if I stalled, I could prolong my stay.

"You know, I didn't get the chance to ask you any questions earlier," I said offhandedly.

"Oh, that's right," she said. "I mean, you could ask me some now if you wanted to. We have time."

"Okay, well why don't I just start off like you did, yeah? What's your full name?"

Charlie cracked her knuckles and kicked out her feet like she was preparing herself for a challenge. "Charlie Valentine," she replied.

I raised an eyebrow. "Middle name?"

"Nada," she said. "I'm one of those people that doesn't have one."

"Interesting. If you _could_ have a middle name, what would you want it to be?"

"Hm, I've always been a little bit of a sucker for the name Amelia, ever since primary school. So maybe I would like that. I've never really considered it much but I think Charlie Amelia Valentine sounds pretty sweet."

"I like it. It flows well," I complimented and she smiled shyly. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-four, same as you."

"Oh, that's right," I said, chuckling.  "Do you have any siblings?"

"Yes. I have an older brother named Finn...and since you brought up my family, I might as well start from the beginning." Intrigued, I motioned for her to continue. "So technically my parents aren't, like, my _real_ parents," she said, "but they are. They adopted me when I was a little less than a year old. Mum and dad had Finn two years before I came along, but mom had to get a surgery that prevented her from having any more kids. I'm kind of the odd-one-out in my family look-wise, but in terms of our personality, we're all pretty alike—Finn and I especially".

"That's really cool," I grinned. "You're the only person I've ever met who's adopted. Do you and your brother have a good relationship?"

"For the first twelve to thirteen years of my life, not so much, but eventually we grew closer and we've been inseparable ever since." A small part of me was happy that she got along with her family, but another small part of me also longed for a relationship like that with mine.

"Do you have any pets?" I asked.

Charlie's face lit up at the question. "Yes, actually. I recently took a stray kitten under my wing. He showed up at my doorstep and I couldn't resist not keeping him, so I took him to the vet to get his shots, bought him some food and toys, and now he lives with me! He's about 'yay' big," she described, measuring with her hands a distance of about eight inches long.

"That's so tiny," I cooed. "I love cats. What did you name him?"

Her face flushed a shade of pink and she chuckled to herself. "You're going to laugh."

"I will not," I assured her.

"Yes you will."

"Promise I won't," I said, extending my pinky finger. She hesitated initially, but eventually caved and locked her pinky with mine.

"Sir Paw McCartney," she giggled.

"What? I'm sorry," I grinned. "I don't think I heard you right. You said you named him _Sir Paw McCartney?_ "

"Yes."

"You're joking."

"I'm not."

"Oh my God."

"I told you you'd laugh."

"I'm not laughing," I smiled, turning my head away from her.

"It's close enough."

"Whatever," I laughed. "Tell me one thing you dislike about your appearance?"

"Why?" she asked.

"Because you asked me what I liked, so I'm asking you what you _don't_ like."

"Well then, I guess I hate my hands."

 _How ironic. That's what I said I liked about myself._   "Okay, why do you hate your hands?"

She breathed in a sigh and traced the creases on her palms with her fingertips. "I use mine all day when I'm at work. I'm constantly running back and forth to people's rooms, scrubbing them clean during each visit." She held her palms out for me to see and I leaned in to get a closer look.  I was a bit taken back by how dry and damaged they looked, almost like they could split open at any second. "I know they're ugly, but that's what happens when they don't get a break from being constantly washed," she said.

"I don't think they're ugly," I said, taking her hands and placing them back in her lap. "I think it shows that you work a lot."

"Maybe," she replied, doubtfully.

I felt like I should move on to a new question, but I found myself struggling to think of one. "Um... jeez, I feel like I'm already running out of questions to ask you," I told her truthfully. "Uh... what's your favorite thing to do?"

"Well, unlike you, I actually _do_ like people."

I scrunched up my nose in disgust. "Gross."

"Oh, hush. I like talking to my patients. I like learning about their lives and hearing what stories they have to share. I have a pretty uninteresting life so talking to others sort of brightens my day. Not to mention, things are a lot easier when you have good relationships with them. It makes their lives easier and my life a _hell_ of a lot easier."

"I'm sure you love having me as a patient, then, huh?" I said half teasingly, half sheepishly.

"You were a pain at first, but we've come to terms a bit, I think."  I huffed a laugh and she smiled.  "People aren't as bad as you make them out to be, Harry.  If you just put in a little effort here and there, it really is not so bad."

"I don't exactly have a good past with people," I admitted, scratching the back of my neck and looking away. "But that's not the point," I said, changing the subject. "Uh, I'll ask you one more question.  I want to make it a good one."

"Go for it," she encouraged. I thought for a couple minutes about what to ask.  In the meantime Charlie and I sat on the bench, taking in the blissful weather.  But I eventually came up with a question.

"So everyone has there own little quirks, yeah?" Just little things that they do when they're nervous or upset or something?" She nodded. "What are yours?"

Charlie furrowed her eyebrows as if in deep thought and pushed loose hair behind her ears. "Well, I actually have mild OCD, if that counts."

"What do you mean?" I asked

"Um, well, I guess you could say I have a bunch of little quirks.  I'm sure you know that OCD effects everyone differently."  I nodded, still a little unsure of where she was going with this. "Okay, so, for instance, I have this thing with numbers and letters. I spell a lot in my head, which sounds weird but, like, it's just something that I do. Like, if I see water I'll just spell 'w-a-t-e-r' in my head. It's not bad and it, like, doesn't really mean anything, but it's just something that my mind does."

"What's your thing with numbers, then?" I asked.

"Well, I like seeing things in fours. So if I were to put ice into a cup, naturally I would put four ice cubes in because that's just how my brain likes seeing things. Or like when I count things—I count them in groups of four."

"So, like, you can't just _resist_ doing stuff like that?  I mean, I'm not trying to sound ignorant or anything, I just want to understand better," I explained.

"No, it's alright. I get that you're curious. And to answer your question, technically, I _could_ just not do it, but the problem is there's this part of my brain that does not stop _nagging_ me about it when I don't give in. I take medicine that helps a lot. It makes my head less of a war zone, but it doesn't always work the way I need it to. It can get really frustrating."

"I can't imagine..."

"I've been living with it my whole life now, though, so I know how to deal with it most of the time. I mean, every case of OCD is a little different depending on the person, so not everyone experiences the same things, but a lot of people with compulsive disorders are really alike. It all sounds a little crazy, I'm sure of it, but-"

"No," I interrupted, eyes wide. "It's not crazy at all, I promise. Trust me, I've seen crazy and that sure as hell isn't anywhere close." I saw her cheeks heat at my words, but I pretended not to notice. "But seriously, Charlie.  How on earth can you tell me you have an uninteresting life when I could honestly listen to you talk about yourself all day."

She tried concealing a smile into her shoulder, but by the way her lips turned up at the ends, I could tell that she was failing. "I'm glad at least one person thinks so," she laughed lightly.

 _How could someone_ not _?_ I thought to myself. The air was clean and pure and it stimulated my senses and for the first time in a long time I felt happy and at peace, almost like I could take on anything that came my way.

Maybe Charlie was right. Maybe all I needed was a goal and a little motivation.

 

 

**_A/N: Hi everyone(: I apologize for not updating in like five weeks, especially since I just started this story. I feel really guilty about that, but school has been testing us like crazy lately and it was hard time to find time to balance writing and studying._ **

**_Tell me what you think about Charlie. Do you guys like her? Comment what you think and vote for this chapter please!_ **

**_Cute as a button, every single one of you(:_ **

**_-Mia <3_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi everyone(: I apologize for not updating in like five weeks, especially since I just started this story. I feel really guilty about that, but school has been testing us like crazy lately and it was hard time to find time to balance writing and studying.
> 
> Tell me what you think about Charlie. Do you guys like her? Comment what you think and vote for this chapter please!
> 
> Cute as a button, every single one of you(:  
> -Mia<3


	6. Chapter 4

***Harry's POV***

 

"Wake up, Sleeping Beauty."

Steadily, my eyes fluttered open to meet the charming face of Charlie herself seated in a chair by my bedside. I glanced down through squinted eyes at her lap where a tray sat consisting of Frosted Mini-Wheats, a bowl of fruit, and a glass of milk.

"Breakfast is served," she announced.

I grunted sleepily, rolling onto my back and stretching out my limbs until they popped and I could push myself into a sitting position. Charlie handed me the tray of food, placing it onto my lap.

"Thanks," I spoke through a yawn.

"Welcome," she nodded. I poured the milk from the glass into my cereal like I did yesterday and stirred it around with my spoon. "So how did you sleep?" she inquired. "Was it as bad as the other night?"

I brought a spoonful of Mini-Wheats to my mouth and shook my head. "Nah, I slept pretty well last night."

"Good," she smiled.

"Yeah, but I'm not gonna grow accustomed to it. I might have a good night every once in a while, but it never lasts. My nightmares are too frequent." I frowned and fiddled with the utensil in my hand.

Her face contorted into what I would describe as a pout. "I wish there was something I could do to help," she said, resting her chin in her hands and tracing a disfigured shape onto the grey tiled floor with her shoe. "Maybe we could prescribe you some sleeping pills. Do you think that would help?" she offered.

I shrugged. "Yeah, maybe. I could try them."

I ate until my plate was completely void of its contents. When I handed it back to Charlie I watched the ends of her lips turn upward.

"What are you smiling at?" I poked.

"Just that you ate today without putting up a fight. Maybe I can trust you enough to not have to sit in here anymore."

While I should have felt relieved by her words, the relief never actually came. As weird as it sounded, I think I kind of liked it when she stayed. It made me feel less lonely and it gave me someone to talk to, someone who _didn't_ irritate the shit out of me. I realized I wasn't the most sociable person in the world, but I still didn't like being alone.

"That's okay," I said trying to sound nonchalant. "I don't really mind you being in here anymore."

Her eyebrow arched skeptically. "Really? Because a day or two ago you would have done anything to kick me out."

I sighed tiredly. "That's because I was mad and wanted nothing to do with anyone."

"Oh, so you want something to do with me now, then?"

I felt my cheeks heat ever so slightly and I cursed internally. "No, that's not what I meant-"

Charlie's laugh cut me off before I could finish. "I'm just messing with you," she said and walked over to the sink. I thought back to what she said yesterday about having to scrub her hands all the time and how much it dried them out. I think I even felt a little sympathetic towards her. "I don't mind it anyway," she continued. "I take on more hours here than I can fill."

"Do you work overtime?" I asked.

The water from the faucet poured out in a steady stream as she turned the handles. "Sorta. I'm legally not allowed to work any more than twelve hours per day, so I come in every day to get hours in."

"Are you saying you would work more than twelve hours if you could?"

"Probably."

"Why would you ever want to work that much?" I asked unbelievably. "That sounds awful."

She turned off the water and grabbed a paper towel from the stack on the counter. "Well, I need money," she explained. "I have to pay for my house, taxes, and my medical school tuition... among other things. I need as much money as I can get, you know?"

I did know.

Looking back, I remembered how my life was growing up and how difficult it was at times. My mom worked two jobs—one day job and one night job. My family struggled a lot financially. But with my current job, I had more money than I knew what to do with, not that that was necessarily a good thing. I often abused my wealth to get my hands on things that weren't exactly good for me, if you know what I mean. My career provided me with more than enough money to not have to worry about my financial status. But I guess it was ignorant of me to assume others had it as easy as I did.

"Yeah, you're right," I said. "Sorry if I sounded snobby."

She dismissed my apology with a wave of her hand and tossed the damp towel into the garbage can. "Doctor Rogers told me this morning that he was hoping to remove your bandages soon... like, permanently." She eyed me cautiously. "Are you okay with that? Do you think you can handle it today or would you feel better if we waited?"

I took a deep breath. It would be a big step for me. In a way I sort of hid myself beneath these bandages. I thought, _as long as I can't see the damage, I can't be effected by it_ , though that wasn't a very healthy way of thinking about my situation.

"I can do it today," I said. "I'll be okay."

"As long as you're okay with it..." she trailed off. "Why don't I just do it while I'm in here, then?" She pulled a stool to my bedside so she was sitting eye-level to me. I hesitantly extended my arm out to her.  She carefully grasped my elbow and started unraveling the protective wrapping. I bit my lip nervously and felt my heart rate quicken.

Charlie stopped and looked up to examine my reaction. "Are you afraid I'm gonna hurt you?"

I shook my head, confused. "What?"

"You look nervous.  I didn't know if you thought I was gonna hurt you."

I swallowed hard and shook my head. "No, um... no.  I just- I don't know. I just don't want to be able to—you know— _see_ them all the time now."

"If you're second-guessing, we can wait until you're sure ready. It's only been a few days since—"

"No, I can do it," I said, more confidently, more for myself than for her. "Just keep going." I felt the bandages get looser around my wrist as Charlie unraveled it further. Eventually, it was completely off and I felt exposed, naked.

"Okay, I'm done," she said softly. "I'm just gonna put some medicine on your arm."

Charlie stood from her chair and stalked over to the wall of cabinets after disposing of the gauze previously adorning my forearm. She pulled out a tube of medicine from the cabinet and a pair of gloves before walking back to my bedside.

She unscrewed the cap and dabbed a pinch of the clear cream onto her gloved finger. "I'll try to be gentle, but tell me if it hurts."

My eyes focused on a distant spot in the room to avoid facing the inevitable disappointment that would come from seeing what lied beneath the bandages. The moment the cool substance made contact with my wrist a chill ran up my spine. Something about the self-inflicted injuries under the delicate gaze of Charlie was unsettling and I wanted nothing more than to pull my arms to my chest and refuse any further assistance.

"That one's all done," she told me.

"I don't want to look."

"That's okay. I'll start on the other one."

She grabbed the stool and pulled it to the other side of the bed. I handed her my wrist without apprehension this time, wanting this all to just be over already. Once the gauze was off I realized how much more naked I felt with two bare arms instead of just one. Charlie pinched more medicine onto her fingertip and rubbed it gently onto my injuries. As she traced over a particularly painful cut, I flinched and, without thinking, I glimpsed down at my arm.

"I'm sorry," she apologized quickly, eyes wide.

But it wasn't the twinge of pain that I was worried about anymore, but rather the sight of my own arms—pulsing, red, raw, swollen, and scabbing over. I was repulsed. And the longer I stared, the harder it was to pull my eyes away. The reality of my situation finally started sinking in and my body grew week. My ability to breath air into my lungs decreased as my blood pressure increased.  I tried to speak to get Charlie's attention, but nothing came out.  She walked over to the sink to throw away her gloves and the gauze and wash her hands. Her back was to me and my vocal chords weren't working and I needed... something.

"Ch- Charlie..." I breathed shakily. She looked over her shoulder and must have realized something was wrong with me because without a second thought, she grabbed a bedside pan and put it in my hands in time for my breakfast to make a reappearance.  My stomach churned as the contents of my stomach came back up, causing me to hack painfully into the plastic bowl in my lap. Charlie stood beside me and soothingly rubbed my back for a couple minutes until there was nothing left in me. Although she hadn't yet said anything, I could _feel_ the concern radiating off of her. 

Once I had caught my breath, she finally said, "Harry, are you okay?"

And that was all it took.

I tried fighting back the tears welling behind my eyes but it was a losing battle.  I covered my face with my hands and shrunk back into my pillows as Charlie set the pan to the side.  She was quiet as she waited for me to say something, anything, but what was there to say? "What have I done?" I mustered before completely falling captive to my emotions.

"It's okay," Charlie cooed, placing a hand on my shoulder. But I shook my head. She didn't understand.  She didn't understand that my life was a series of self-destructive behavior, mental, emotional, and physical.  People didn't understand that my life was far from perfect, that the 'celebrity' life wasn't as easy as they thought it was.  Take all of that and mix it together with my shitty childhood and you've got the perfect recipe for disaster.

"I can't change," I sputtered through a shaky breath, closing my eyes and willing my tears to go away. I can think of at least a hundred other things I'd rather do than cry in front of someone else, _especially Charlie_.

I opened my eyes to see Charlie looking timidly down at her hands, as if unsure of what to say. "You just need to focus on getting better," she assured me, attempting a smile.

I felt weak in her presence as the tears pushed past my eyelids and down my face. "I deserve to be here," I swallowed. "I did this to myself. I _deserve_ to be here."

"No, Harry," she stated calmly. "You don't deserve to be here. Nobody does. It's not your fault tha-"

"Stop it!" I snapped, looking up at her through glassy eyes.  She looked a little taken back by my tone. "It _is_ my fault," I choked. "I did this to myself. Me. Nobody else. You don't _understand_. These cuts," I paused and extended my wrists in her direction for her to see, "were not an accident."

She took my arms and placed them back at my side, inhaling slightly before speaking. "I know what you did and I know why you did it," she said quietly.  "I understand that, I do. But you don't have to keep punishing yourself for it." A sob escaped my throat and the tears streamed freely down my cheeks.  "You can forgive. You'll never find closure with yourself unless you learn to forgive."

"I know," I breathed shakily, wrapping my arms around myself in an attempt to make myself smaller, more insignificant. Looking at her, her gentle features appeased me; everything from the small freckles sprinkled across her nose, to her long eyelashes that splayed softly across the tops of her cheekbones every time she blinked, to the way her pink lips turned up whenever she smiled. She walked to the counter to grab the box of tissues and then proceeded to extend them in my direction, but I didn't move. 

"It's okay to cry," she said, as if reading my thoughts. "A good cry every now and again is a good thing."

I shook my head. "It makes me feel pathetic."

"Well it shouldn't.  It shows that you still care, even if only a little bit. Now take one."  Charlie forced the box in my direction again.  I squinted in annoyance, but grabbed the tissues anyway. I noticed a peaceful smile appear on her face as she made her way over to the door, but I tried to ignore it.  She turned around as she opened the door and took a step back to lean her shoulder against the door frame.

"What?" I asked.

She crossed her arms over her chest and smiled again.  "Excelsior.  Just... don't forget about it, okay?"

I stubbornly huffed and rolled my eyes, but ultimately nodded.  She left without another word, the door closing shut behind her.

 

**. . .  
**

 

" _Excelsior?_ "

"Yeah. Excelsior. My nurse and I talked about it yesterday." Joe nodded slowly, tasting the word on his tongue a couple times. I recalled the definition she gave me when we spoke about it the day before. "She said it means 'still higher, ever upwards.' So like no matter where I am now and no matter how hard I'm struggling, if I work hard, then maybe things can improve from this point forward. She said I should use it as self-motivation."

"Do _you_ want to use it as self-motivation?" I shrugged. "Something like that takes a lot of commitment, but I think you could definitely use a little motivation." I diverted my eyes to the windows, watching rain stream rapidly down the glass. It rained like this just about every day in London, the wind blowing raindrops every which way and rattling the leaves on the trees with each little blow.

"Something on your mind?" Joe inquired thoughtfully, but I shook my head.

"Just a long day," I responded, thinking back to the earlier events of the day and clutching my stomach with my exposed arms.

Joe hummed under his breath and sat forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. He looked me in the eyes as he spoke. "I feel like you're trying, Harry."

I looked at him a little skeptically. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that you actually seem at least _a little_ bit interested in giving life a second shot.  I don't see that a lot among people who attempt suicide. You seem to be a couple steps ahead. I mean, correct me if I'm wrong." I shook my head. "So what happened?" he inquired.

I shrugged and again my eyes fell to the downpour raging on just outside the hospital. Slumping down in my bed, I pulled the blankets up to my chest. "I don't know," I replied curtly.  Joe waited momentarily, expecting a more thorough answer from me, but I had nothing more to offer.

"Harry, you know I'm here to support you. Everything you tell me stays between the two of us. We need to build a good relationship and be able to communicate for these therapy sessions to work."

I grunted. "I don't know what you expect from me. I don't know you and you don't know me. How do you expect me to just open up to you and trust you?"

"I understand that, but this is only our second time meeting. It's a process. What can I do to make you feel more comfortable opening up?"

"You really want the truth?" I asked a little scathingly, eyes wide. "Nothing. I don't believe in any of the bullshit gimmicks you people use to 'help' people. I don't think _anybody_ can help me, but if there _is_ someone, it's me, not you. There's nothing you or anyone else can do that's going to help."

"How do you know that?" he retorted.

"I just know."

"You haven't even tried. Don't you want to at least try?"

"No."

"Listen, I realize you don't _want_ help—trust me, I do—but you _need_ it, whether you want to admit it or not. Don't you think you should at least use this time to your advantage and try getting better?" I scowled. "I'm not trying to be a hard-ass but I don't want you giving up already. I'm not going to give up on you."

It took everything in me to not burst out laughing. "Yeah, I _seriously_ doubt that. That's what everyone says, and guess what? They always fucking leave."

"I won't leave, Harry."

My gaze hardened. "Oh really? And how can I be sure about that?"

"You can't!" he exclaimed. "You just have to trust me! For once in your life, trust someone—trust that not everybody is not out to get you! I'm giving you my word, Harry. I swear that I won't give up on you and I won't leave." The look in his eyes seemed so honest and genuine, but I was still so reluctant to just comply like this.  I didn't _know_ him.  How can you trust someone you don't know? But the more I though about it, the more I realized I didn't have anything left to lose. And his offer really did seem authentic...

I heaved a long sigh.  "Okay.  I believe you." Joe smiled a little and nodded contently.  "Now let's wrap up this session," I added. "I'm looking forward to a nap after this.

 

. . .

 

From what I could tell, Joe's investment in my case was pretty sincere. Every day for the rest of the week, he showed up at the hospital and ran hour-long sessions with me. He never once arrived late or missed a single meeting. The more time we spent together the closer the two of us became. I could tell that he was putting forth a solid effort, and as much as I hated being helped by others, I could still acknowledge his good intentions.

One week after my admission to the hospital, I was released. Day after day of sitting idly in a dull, mundane hospital room started becoming an absolute drag. But as relieving as it should have been to know I would be free from the hospital, I was genuinely nervous for what was ahead of me. Being under the close surveillance of doctors and nurses was somewhat comforting mainly because I couldn't do anything without it going unnoticed, which included self-destructive behaviors. Once I returned to the real world, I feared things would go back to how they were before my hospital visit.

On the day of my release from the hospital, I dressed in fresh clothing, a happy reprieve from the shitty hospital scrubs I'd worn all week. Unhealthy reminders of that terrible night replayed in my mind as I freshened up in the bathroom. I scrubbed my face with soap and water and combed through my hair with my fingers. When I finished, I wiped my hands on my black t-shirt and turned on my heels to start for the door, but stopped when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I stared at my reflection for a few moments and then leaned forward to grip the sides of the sink. Looking myself in the eyes, I whispered, "You need to pull your shit together now, okay? You need to do this."

The automatic glass doors in the hospital's lobby opened as I approached. One step outside and I already felt a significant weight lift from my shoulders. Leaving this place felt like one great big burst of freedom.

A taxicab sat in front of the hospital next to a sign labeled _Pick-Up_. I strolled up alongside the car and opened the door to the back seat. The driver turned around to face me as I closed the door and asked my name to confirm I was his pick-up. He asked me where I was headed and I gave him the address to my house.  He started the car and looked into the rear-view mirror, eyeing me curiously. "Hey, aren't you that celebrity that's been all over the news this week?"

My heart jumped to my throat and I felt a tight pressure in my chest. _It's already starting_ , I thought.  I broke eye contact with him and shrugged tiredly, a heavy sigh following suit. "Probably," was all I said. He seemed to understand that I wasn't exactly in the mood for twenty questions, so with another 'once-over' he spun around and pulled away from the parking lot. My head lolled to the side to rest against the cool glass window and I watch the red cross on the front of the building disappear from of my sight. I closed my eyes tightly and spent the majority of the ride home savoring as much peace as I could get in the midst of the roaring city of London.

 

**_A/N: Hi! How is everyone? I can't wait for the next chapter! It's going to be so much fun to write!_ **

**_Anyways... thank you for reading and PLEASE vote and comment! I'd love to hear from you all._ **

**_Cute as a button, every single one of you(:_ **

**_-Mia <3_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi! How is everyone? I can't wait for the next chapter! It's going to be so much fun to write!
> 
> Anyways... thank you for reading and PLEASE vote and comment! I'd love to hear from you all.
> 
> My Twitter is @KissesFromZiall so talk to me on there too!
> 
> Cute as a button, every single one of you(:
> 
> -Mia<3


	7. Chapter 5

***Harry's POV***

 

My insides twisted uneasily as I neared the hospital for the second time this week, only this time, I was headed on my own terms. I'd been on my own for a day and a half now, even though it felt like _years_ since I'd seen this place.

 

-Flashback-

 

_"Thanks," I grumbled, stepping out of the cab and slamming the back door with my foot. I paid the fare and watched the cab pull away from my house. Once the car was out of sight, I_ _turned on my heels and clutched the paper bag in my hands full of the medications the hospital prescribed to me._

_The sight of my home should have been a relief, but instead it had quite the opposite effect. I began feeling more and more like a stranger in its presence the longer I stood staring at it from my driveway. It felt like all of my darkest secrets and most damaging thoughts were already beginning to consume my mind. B_ _reathing in slowly to alleviate some of the pressure building in my lungs, I started for my front door while simultaneously trying to push my overwhelming feelings aside. The key wiggled into the lock on the front door and a click sounded on the opposite side. My stomach turned as I opened the door and hit the light switch beside the door.  I stepped inside for the first time since the incident and to my relief everything seemed to be in its rightful place, not a single thing mislaid._

_I walked silently through the living room, listening to the hum of the heat blowing through the vents in my house. I hung my keys on the wall hook in the kitchen and circled aimlessly around my house, feeling unwelcome and out of place._ _Stalking up the staircase in the entryway, I made my way down the hallway to my bedroom._ _I initially hesitated turning the door nob, unsure of what I might see on the other side, but I eventually pushed through my fear of oblivion. A deep inhalation of breath caused my lungs to freeze as I gave the room a once-over. It was all too familiar; the sealed charcoal curtains separating me from the outside world, the tasteless gray walls ironically matching my mood, and my disheveled sheets that I never could find the strength or time to reassemble. More than enough times, I would return home after tedious days and collapse into my bed to immerse myself in sleep or tears or sometimes both. My bedroom often served as a security blanket for me, whereas other times it served as a place for my self-destructive thoughts to roam freely. Now, standing in the doorway, I feared now that things may not actually change. What if something inside me snapped like before? What if the urge to self-harm resurfaced? What if I willingly put myself in danger again?_

_I carried myself to the bed, discarding my shoes and shirt somewhere in the process. I pulled the comforter over my sore and tired figure and stared aimlessly at the ceiling looming above my head. Everything that was supposed to be taken care of that night I procrastinated doing until the next day. In the meantime, I curled up between the sheets and passed out within the confines of my own bed._

 

-End Flashback-

 

I pulled my car into a parking spot near the front entrance of the building and retrieved my keys from the ignition.  I glimpsed at the red cross mounted on the front of the hospital, standing tall against the contrasting white bricks.  My head was already swarming with memories from my stay here, my unsettled stomach churning and causing me to feel sick.  A long time passed as I sat idly in my SUV trying to convince myself to _get my ass out of the goddamn car_ and _just go inside already._  

I sighed and grabbed the stuff I needed off the passenger's seat and stepped out of my car, my feet guiding me to the sliding glass doors at the front of the hospital. The moment the doors opened, I grimaced and considered leaving altogether; the lobby was quite the scene—babies screaming bloody murder, patients coughing and hacking in the waiting rooms, nurses making their scheduled rounds, and phones all around me ringing off the hook. I didn't even know where to start. My eyes searched for a help desk of sorts to help me find what I needed.  Off to the side, I noticed a check-in counter where a middle-aged woman sat with a landline to her ear. I made my way over and waited until she directed the phone call to another line before grabbing her attention.

"Hi! How can I help you?"

"Uh, yeah, hi," I mumbled. "I was just wondering if I could see Charlie Valentine. I have something important to drop off to her."

"Sure, I'll call upstairs and let her know you're here to see her. What's your name?"

"Harry," I said.  The receptionist paused momentarily, probably waiting for me to say a last name, but I didn't.  She nodded a little unsurely, but then gestured for me to take a seat while I waited. I sat down in a chair off to the side and then pretended to not pay attention as she exchanged words with somebody on the other end of the phone.

"They're sending her down right now," she assured after hanging up. Several minutes passed by slowly as I tapped my heel in time with the ticking of the clock anchored above the wall opposite me, my heart pumping anxiously in my chest the whole time I waited. The elevators at the end of the hallway _ding_ -ed, opened and closed numerous times but each time failed to present the person I was here to see. Finally, after what seemed like forever and a day, the familiar, young, brown-eyed girl I was here for stepped off the elevator and trudged down the long corridor in pastel pink scrubs. Charlie smiled as she made eye-contact with me.

"Harry, what are you doing here?" she asked,taking a step back to examining me from head to toe. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," I smiled. "I'm fine. I'm actually here to give you something." I turned around and bent down to snatch the bouquet of roses and slip of paper I brought with me.  I handed the flowers to her and she stared at them for a moment, surprised. "Wait. What?" She chuckled a little under her breath as she took them from me. "What are these for?"

"I just- I really wanted to thank you, like, formally, for everything you did for me while I was here. I didn't get to say goodbye when I left, or even thank you for that matter, and I feel like I owe it to you."

"That's so thoughtful of you," she beamed, raising the flowers to her nose, closing her eyes, and inhaling the scent. "They smell amazing."

"I got you sixteen," I said quietly, biting my lip. She looked at me, confused, so I elaborated. "You said that you like seeing things in fours, so I got _four_ sets of _four_ roses," I explained. I was on the brink of fighting with the guy at the florist to give me an extra rose because he _insisted_ on giving me fifteen instead of sixteen." I paused. "And... I'm just now realizing how crazy this all sounds," I laughed sheepishly.

"Of course not," she giggled. "I appreciate you putting so much effort into it. It means a lot to me."

"I also have this," I added, rubbing the back of my neck nervously. "I didn't know who else to give it to, so I figured I would just give it to you now.  It's just a little something from me to the hospital."

I handed Charlie the thin slip of paper in my hand, and she unfolded it, scanning briefly over its contents.  Quickly, all of the color in her face drained and her eyes widened. "Oh my God," she whispered.

"Are you alright?" I asked a little concerned now after seeing her dramatic mood change.

She didn't reply, but instead plopped down into the seat I previously occupied, holding her flowers in one hand and the check in the other. I sat down beside her and waited for her to say something. _Did I do something wrong?_

" _F-fifteen thousand pounds?_ " she exasperated.  "Harry, that's a _lot_ of money."

"I know, I know. But I want to donate it to you guys. You all took really good care of me while I was here so the hospital can put it towards whatever they want."

"I don't even know what to say. I just- thank you so much," she breathed and put an arm around me in a loose embrace. "This means so much to us."

"Before you go," I said as she stood up. "There's one more thing I wanted to ask you."

"Sure, anything," she said, blowing loose strands of hair out of her face.

I cleared my throat to keep it from closing up as I spoke. "Okay, so, like, I don't know if this sounds like weird or not, but, like, I was hoping that you would go to dinner with me sometime maybe this week or next week, like, even if it's only for a little bit one night when you aren't very busy or anything."  I could feel myself sounding like an idiot and rambling on and on but I couldn't stop because I was just now realizing how weird this sounded. "I mean, like, it's not a date or anything—not that you would think it is—but like I really just want to pay you back for all the things you have done for me. You were like a friend to me in here and I owe it to you to do something for you in return..." I trailed off when I noticed her expression and that's when I knew I fucked up. _God, Harry._  

I tried to determine what she was thinking, but she was hard to read and I felt the urge to vomit the longer she took to answer the question. I saw her lips move but my brain was too cluttered at the moment to comprehend her reply.

I swallowed hard and shook my head. "Sorry, I missed that."

"How about tonight?" she repeated. "I bet Dr. Roberts would let me off at regular time instead of keeping me for my over-time shift."

I exhaled the breath I didn't know I was holding in relief of her reply and smiled. "Yeah, that'd be great." How about I... um, I don't know... text you later to talk about it then?" I looked around the room and patted my pockets in search of my phone or something to write with, but Charlie pulled out a pen before I found either. She took my left hand in hers and began writing a string of numbers onto the back of my knuckles. She laughed lightly and mumbled, "Forgive me for this."

I felt my cheeks heat at her touch. "No, I don't mind."  _What the hell. Why are you blushing?_

Once she finished, she clicked the pen and shoved it back into her pocket. "Just let me know what you're thinking for tonight. I'm good with anything," she smiled and leaned forward to press a light kiss to my cheek, causing a chill to run up my spine. "Thank you, Harry... for _everything._  You have no idea what all of this means to me."

I fought back the loopy grin that threatened to appear on my lips. "No, thank you," I said.  "And enjoy your flowers."

"Will do," she called over her shoulder as she headed back to the elevators at the end of the hallway. I waited until she was out of sight to head outside to my car again. My drive home consisted of brainstorming a plan for tonight, but I struggled to focus, mainly because I couldn't get over the fact that she'd actually said _yes_.

 

**. . .**

 

**To: Charlie**

**From: Harry**

**Hey, Charlie. It's Harry. I was thinking we could meet up tonight at The Corner Room for dinner. Let me know what you think and what time you'll be free x**

 

**To: Harry**

**From: Charlie**

**Good to hear from you(: I should be off at 6, so any time after 7 should work just fine. As much as I love Italian food, The Corner Room is waaaaayyyyy out of my price range/: Any other suggestions?? x**

 

**To: Charlie**

**From: Harry**

**I'm covering the bill no matter where we go, but if you really don't wanna go, we can decide on somewhere else!**

 

**To: Harry**

**From: Charlie**

**I appreciate the offer but I don't want you to have to pay...**

 

**To: Charlie**

**From: Harry**

**Remember? I'm paying you back for all of your help last week. My treat. How's 7:30?**

 

**To: Harry**

**From: Charlie**

**Yeah, okay. That sounds good. Thanks so much(: You're the best. See you tonight xx**

 

**. . .**

 

***Charlie's POV***

 

It was just after six o'clock by time I got home from the hospital, leaving me a good hour or so to get ready. Luckily, it wouldn't take me too long to freshen up; a quick wash, a new outfit, and a touch of makeup would do the trick. Harry decided on a fancy Italian bistro for dinner, and as thrilled as I was to have a night off work and a formal dinner plan for this evening, I couldn't get past how expensive The Corner Room was. He assured me that he'd cover it, but I was still a little anxious about it.

On my way up the front porch steps, my mind drifted back to earlier when Harry visited me at the hospital. The minute we went our separate ways, I presented the check to the Dean of Medicine, who was just as shocked by the generous donation as I was. I thought to myself, _it must be nice not having to worry about money or finances. I'd love to have one less thing to stress about in my life._ But as envious as I was, I also recognized how accomplished he was as a person. He'd worked really hard to achieve his incredible status and wealth and I felt blessed to have met someone so charitable and kind, (though he could also be a righteous pain in my ass).

I pulled my keys out of my purse and unlocked my front door.  I stepped inside only to be ambushed by my tenacious little cat. "Sir Paw!" I cooed, scooping him up in my arms and carrying him like a baby through the house. "How was your day, Little Mister?" I playfully bopped his nose with my index finger as he swiped at my hand with his paws. "You're a feisty little beast, aren't ya?"

I set him back down on the carpet and watched him chase after me as I sprinted into my bedroom to start preparing myself for dinner. I glanced at the clock on my bedside table and mentally budgeted my time.  It seemed I had just enough time to shower, dress, do my hair, and put on some makeup before having to leave the house.

After a quick shower, I blow-dried my hair and then rummaged through my closet to find an outfit to wear. "What do you think? Do you like this one or the other one?" I inquired. My kitten whom was sprawled out on my bed was watching me attentively. I stood in front of my full-length mirror and switched the two skirts in my hands back and forth in front of me, mentally deciding which one looked better.  Sir Paw mewed and I nodded as if I understood. "Agreed, Sir. I like that one too."

Pulling it off its hanger, I shimmied the black and white skirt up my waist and tucked the hem of my red blouse into it. I slipped into a pair of casual black heels and slapped on a bit of matching jewelry. I fixed my hair into a simple up-do, deciding it would be best to not have my hair falling in front of my face all night. A couple quick glimpses in the mirror and I was ready to leave, so I grabbed my black blazer and purse on my way out the door.

The restaurant we were meeting at was only a fifteen minute drive, and even with traffic, I arrived on time. I parked my car in the crowded lot and shoved my keys in my purse. I began making my way up to the venue, my eyes cast down at my feet as my heals clicked against the hard pavement. I was vaguely aware of the dim streetlamps lining the sidewalk and the chatter of people and music inside. 

"Charlie!" called a familiar voice. I looked up and instantly found Harry standing several feet away with his back against the building. He was dressed in a black blazer over top a white dress shirt, the collar unbuttoned, and black slacks that matched his jacket were fitted perfectly to his legs. His business-casual attire surprised me, but in a good way. I was just slightly taken back by his appearance from his perfectly unruly hair (if that even made any sense at all) to how good he looked in those clothes... He seemed to radiate certain something that I couldn't quite put my finger on...

"Wow," I breathed walking up to him. "You look... _good_. Like, really, really good."

He blushed ever so slightly. "I was just about to tell you the same thing." I thanked him and mock-curtsied, making him chuckle under his breath. "You know what?" he inquired. "I considered just throwing on some of those scrubs I wore last week at the hospital. What do you think? Was this a better option or should I go home and change?"

"Hm, I don't know," I smiled, tapping my chin faux-thoughtfully. "I really _do_ love hospital scrubs..."

"Damn! I guess I'll just have to wear it next time then," he teased. I exhaled a small sigh, shaking my head to keep myself from laughing as we walked into the restaurant.  He held the door open for me and gestured for me to step inside first.

"I reserved us a table," he told me as we approached the host stand. For some reason I felt special, a little bit like I was a celebrity.

"Hi, welcome to The Corner Room," a young man about our age greeted. "How many today?"

"We have a reservation for two," Harry explained. "The name should be _Styles_."

The host checked the list on the podium and crossed off the name as he stumbled across it. "Yep.  We have you down right here."  The gentleman grabbed a pair of menus and started n the direction of the dining room.  "Your table is right this way."  We followed him as he escorted us to our seats. I pulled out the chair across from Harry and thanked the man before he walked away.

"I asked for a table in the back," Harry explained. "I wanted to be away from everyone else. I didn't want to risk being recognized." Harry turned around slightly in his chair and examined the rest of the room. "I think we'll be fine tonight."

"I think so too," I assured, patting his hand resting on the tabletop. I grabbed a menu off the table and opened it to the dinner section. Reading through the assortment of dishes, I noticed all of them were pretty stiffly priced. I bit the inside of my cheek anxiously and tried finding something even _remotely_ inexpensive. I recognized the fact that Harry had offered to pay for tonight, but I didn't want him to think I was taking advantage of him or his wealth.

"You can get anything you want," he said, as if reading my thoughts.  I nodded, but continued skimming the menu for an affordable dish. When our server came to wait on us, he asked if we were ready to order and I looked to Harry.

"I am," I shrugged nonchalantly. "You good?"

"Yeah, I'm good.  You can go ahead," he smiled.

I swallowed hard, worried I might anger Harry if I ordered something too expensive.  I wasn't used to this sort of situation. I hardly ever ate out, especially when it came to such luxurious places as this.

"Um, okay.  I think I'll have the Chicken Parmigiana for my meal and, to drink... a Stiletto?" I said a little unsurely. I risked a glance up at Harry but he seemed unphased, which made me feel a little better about the situation.

"And for you, Sir?"

"Uh... I think I'll have the Pasta Arrabiata and... a Black Bay Bellini."

Our server quickly scribbled the orders onto his notepad and then asked to collect our menus. Harry piled them together and handed them to our server.  As he extended his hand, his sleeve bunched at the elbow and exposed his forearm, revealing the deep cuts inlaid in his wrist. He noticed it at the same time I did and he quickly pulled his hands back into his lap.  I felt his eyes dart to me, but I avoided his gaze and acted as though I hadn't seen it happen.

 

. . .

 

"How is it?" I asked, taking a small sip from my wine glass.

"Amazing," he smiled. "Wanna try a bite?"

I nodded enthusiastically and he twirled his fork on the plate to loop some noodles around the utensil. He held the fork out in my direction me and I leaned in towards him to take the bite. "Oh my gosh," I moaned, eyes rolling back into my head. "That stuff is _heaven_.  When I die, bury me in Pasta Arrabiata." He laughed and sipped his drink. "Here, try mine," I offered.

I cut off a piece for him and handed him my silverware. His eyelashes fluttered in delight and he, too, moaned in approval. "That's probably the best thing I've _ever_ tasted. I don't suppose you'd wanna trade dishes?" He grinned sheepishly and I knew deep down that I couldn't say no. This is one of the first times I've actually seen Harry like this—sociable, charming, and from what I could tell... _happy_. I wonder what had changed.

I sighed dramatically and rolled my eyes, but couldn't force the small smile off my lips. "I guess," I said, though it didn't come out as grumpy as I'd hoped it would. I handed him my plate and he handed me his.  We failed to force down our laughter as we began eating each other's meals. The rest of our dinner was spent talking about this and that, the conversation flowing easily between the two of us. Harry took on more of a listening role, but I didn't mind it much. I enjoyed talking, and plus, he seemed really engaged in whatever it was we were talking about at the time.

Towards the end of my meal, I noticed a strange, but familiar feeling form in the pit of my stomach. It wasn't bad like I was going to vomit, but rather tightness or pressure in and around my abdomen. I ignored it initially until I started feeling genuinely uncomfortable and... crampy... _Oh no,_ I thought. _Please not here._

Attempting to remain inconspicuous, I scanned the dining room for a sign pointing to the restroom and found one on the opposite side of the restaurant.

 _Great. Just my luck_.

"I'll be right back," I told Harry as I stood up and brushed off the back of my skirt, hoping he wouldn't question my whereabouts. I quickly made my way to the ladies' room and prayed nobody had payed much attention to me on my way inhere in case there was a stain on my skirt. I locked the bathroom door behind me and rushed to the mirror to examine my backside.  _Well FUCK_. It was just my luck to start my period on the one night I actually had plans in public. There was no way in _hell_ I was going to risk walk out of here, flaunting a big fat bloodstain on my ass. I searched through the pockets in my purse for a tampon and cheered internally when I found one. But while it was a solution to one problem, it didn't quite solve the other one. My blazer was back at the table with Harry, but even then, it only came down to my waist and wouldn't cover the obvious stain on my skirt.

"Goddamn you Mother Nature," I cursed. Realizing that the only option I had was to call Harry, I pulled my phone out of my cluttered purse and found his name in my contacts. "Kill me," I muttered under my breath. The phone rang once or twice before he picked up.

"Charlie? Why are you calling me? Where did you go?"

"Jesus Christ, Harry. I'm _fucked_."

"What do you mean? What's wrong?"

"I legit _just_ started my period and I already bled through my skirt. There's a stain that's super noticeable and I don't know what to do."

"Um... okay.  What do you need me to do?" he asked a bit reluctantly, clearly not knowing exactly how to respond to this impromptu situation.

"Just please come help me before I have to walk out of here and die of embarrassment," I pleaded.

"Okay, I'm coming," he said and hung up his phone a moment later. I shoved my phone back into my purse and waited until I heard a knock at the door. I scurried over to unlock and open it. I recognized Harry immediately and clutched his hand, dragging him inside behind me and then locking the door behind us.

"Jesus, Charlie. Try not to cut off my circulation with your death grip next time," he said, brushing his hand on his pants.

"Please just help me," I whined.

"Right, okay, how bad is it?" he asked. I turned towards the mirror to show him and he tisked. "It's not that big of a stain, but it's super noticeable. I can try getting it of if you want? Hold on." He grabbed a paper towel off the stack on the sink and wet it with water. "You know, I usually don't touch a girl's ass on the first date," he chuckled and I punched his shoulder. "Seriously though, are you sure you don't mind?" I dismissed his mild concern with a quick wave of my hand and he crouched down to ass-level to scrub at the spot, but nothing seemed to be working.

"This sucks so bad," I groaned, bending over the sink to rest my elbows on the counter and stare spitefully at myself in the mirror. He stood up after a couple more failed attempts and threw away the towel in defeat.

"Ugh," I sighed and he forced back a laugh. "This isn't funny," I defended, holding my face in my hands.

"It kind of is," he chortled, but pulled my hands away from my face. "But I don't really mind if you wear my jacket for the rest of the night."

"Really? Are you sure?" I asked.

He shed his blazer from his shoulders and handed it to me. "Yeah, I'm sure. Just make sure you don't bleed all over it," he teased and I punched him in the shoulder again. "Here, let me help you," he offered and took the blazer from me, holding it out for me to put my arms through. I easily slipped into it and wiggled my hands out of the sleeves to grip the cuffs at the end. "Is that alright?" he asked, a small smirk adorning his his lips. "It's a little bit big." And by a little big, he meant _a lot_ big.  But, I checked myself in the mirror to see if the jacket covered what I needed it to cover.

"It's perfect," I sighed in relief. "Thanks so much Harry. I wasn't exactly looking forward to being the laughing stock of the restaurant." I offered him a quick hug before pulling him towards the door. "I think we ought to get back before our food gets cold." Harry nodded in agreement and reached to unlock the bathroom door.  He opened it at the same time that another woman was about to come inside.  She looked surprised and a little offended as her eyes drifted back and forth between the two of us walking out of the bathroom together. Not in the mood to defend the situation (or my dignity, for that matter), I scoffed and pushed past her, mumbling, "oh get over yourself," under my breath. As I lead us back to our table, the only sound I could distinguish was Harry's tuneful laughter, and boy, could I listen to that sound forever.

 

_**A/N: Soooo... I just so happened to throw in Charlie's point of view for the first time in this story. What'd you guys think of it? Charlie's luck is almost identical to mine. I started my period as I was writing this chapter and I ended up bleeding through my pants and onto my bedsheets** **lol so that's where the inspiration for that came from! Hahahahaha kms** _

**_Pretty PLEASE vote for this chapter if you liked it and also comment your thoughts!_ **

**_Cute as a button, every single one of you(:_ **

**_-Mia <3_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Soooo, I threw in Charlie's point of view for the first time. What'd you guys think of it? Charlie's luck is almost identical to mine- pretty much non-existent! I started my period as I was writing the very last scene and I bled through my pants which was the inspiration for that. Hahahahaha kms
> 
> Pretty PLEASE vote for this chapter if you liked it and also comment your thoughts!
> 
> Cute as a button, every single one of you(:  
> -Mia<3


	8. Chapter 6

***Harry's POV*  
**

 

A week had passed since my discharge from the hospital and I had taken up the doctor's advice to create my own own routine—and stick to it.  Every morning I woke up at 9:00, pulled myself out of bed, took a long walk through my neighborhood, spent my day doing this and that, and then made it into bed by 11:00 every night. Sure, it seemed a bit juvenile, but it was meant to keep me focused, organized, and responsible, all things I knew I needed to be throughout my road to recovery.

Today I woke up, feeling extra good—relaxed, refreshed and, oddly, craving the company of a good book. I couldn't remember the last time I had read. It'd been ages. Reading had always been one of my many guilty pleasures; I enjoyed sticking my nose in long novels for long periods of time and escaping into the fantastical worlds in each story. _West End Lane Books_ was one of the more local stores around where I lived.  It carried a broad selection of books, ranging from children's books to biographies to thrillers to dramas, and so on. I couldn't remember the last time I'd visited the store... Perhaps it wouldn't be such a bad idea to drop by today.

After showering, dressing, and brushing my teeth, I embarked on a journey to find some good books to quench my thirst. I arrived at the bookstore shortly after driving through McDonald's for breakfast. As I pulled around to the pick-up window the teenage girl manning the drive-thru screamed in shock at my appearance and burst into tears, bombarding me with, " _I love you_ 's" and whatever other nonsense she blubbered and I had to resist the _intense_ urge to throw my carryout bag at her face. Luckily, the bookstore wasn't crowded this early in the day, so there would likely not be another occurrence like the one I experienced prior to arriving at the bookstore. I still didn't want to risk being seen and having to encounter... you know... _people_ , so I pulled up my hood, threw on a pair of Ray-Bans, and walked into the store.

Stepping inside, my eyes absorbed the sight of walls upon walls of bookcases, all of them stocked full of old and new releases. The books created an array of colors that spanned to every corner of the two-story building. I inhaled the 'old book smell' and immediately felt at peace.

"Good morning. Welcome to West End Lane Books." I turned to face the front counter and locked eyes with an older man who was in the process of organizing books in the _book return_ pile. I nodded in return and started up the staircase to find the 'young-adult' section of the store, but looking around, I felt overwhelmed by the amount of books surrounding me. I hardly knew where to begin looking. I wove in and out of each of the aisle to get an idea of what my options looked like. Once I finished, I circled back around to the 'A's' where I first began and noticed a familiar young woman standing in the middle of the walkway rifling through the books on the shelves.

I chuckled under my breath. _What are the odds?_

Charlie stood deep in thought and scanned over the book cover in her hand, playing absentmindedly with her lips. She squinted disapprovingly at one of the books and placed it back on the shelf, sliding the other of the two into the basket on her arm. Deciding it would be a missed opportunity to _not_ mess with her, I pulled my hood back up and pushed my shades up on my face and  walked over to where she stood. I stepped in front of her line of vision with my arms crossed and moved in the same directions she did each time she tried side-stepping me.

"Excuse me," she said in annoyance. "I can't see what I'm looking for when you stand _DIRECTLY_ in front of me." I faked an apology and floated away briefly only to creep back over a couple seconds later and stand shoulder to shoulder with her, nudging her arm occasionally.

"Hey!" she whisper-shouted. "I don't know what the hell your problem is but if you don't knock it off _right_ _now_ , I swear-"

My laugh cut her off mid-sentence and I pulled off my hood and glasses. She sighed in relief when she recognized me, but she didn't hesitate sending a hostile look my way.

"You're not funny, Harry," she said, but cracked a smile despite her words.

"Then why are you smiling," I grinned.

She turned away from me and strolled slowly down the aisle, eyes skimming carefully over the books. "I'm not," she stated. I scoffed and rolled my eyes, following closely behind her as she walked.  "I thought you were some creep," she said, pulling another book down from a bookshelf further down.

"Maybe I am. You never know..."

"You better not be," she giggled. "I've already been out with you once. Now would not be the time to inform me of your side-job as an ax-murderer."

"Surprise," I smiled and she rolled her eyes.

"What are you doing here anyways? Are you following me?" she asked, tilting her head every once in a while to read the titles of books.

I copied her actions, hoping I'd find a title that would  spark my interest. "Well, Charlie. You're a smart girl. I'm sure you can figure this one out on your own. I'm at a _store_ that sells _books._  What do _you_ think I'm doing here?"

She shoved my shoulder. "Obviously you're here to get books, dumbass. I meant, what are you doing here so early?"

I studied the hands on my watch reading roughly nine thirty and shrugged. "I woke up today with a yearning for a new book.  How about you?"

"Well, I usually come here to grab a few books and a coffee from the café downstairs and then sit at a table and read."

"Sounds like fun. Any recommendations?"

Her eyes brightened and she nodded. "Yes, actually. Follow me." She lead me down several aisles to the T section. "I read a really good one a few weeks back that you might like."

"What's it called?"

Charlie pulled a book from the shelf and inspected the cover. "Here," she said, handing me the book. "It's called _Thirteen Reasons Why._ "

"I've heard of this before. Isn't it, like, _girly_ though?" I asked a little skeptical.

She rolled her eyes.  "You'll love it. I think you'll find you can relate to it.  It's one of my favorites."

"Fine, I'll get it. I know one that you might like too," I said and moved to the 'S's'. "It's about these two girls who are daughters of, like, this bone-saw killer and acquire this desire to kill people they think deserve to die. It's _fantastic_."

She looked at me unsurely, eyebrows furrowed. "It definitely sounds... interesting?"

I laughed lightly. "I promise you won't be able to put it down." I traced the bookshelf with my finger in search of the book I was looking for. "Here it is." I said and pulled _Slice of Cherry_ away from its neighboring copies. "I think there's one that comes before it too;  _Bleeding Violet_ if I'm not mistaken."

She smiled. "Thanks. I'll get these two and maybe another in case I finish them quickly. I'll text you when I'm done and let you know what I thought of them. You better do the same," she said and tapped the book in my hand with her fingertips.

"Will do," I assured her.

Charlie squinted thoughtfully for a couple seconds as if in deep thought. "Or..." she started.

"Or what?"

" _Or_ ," she repeated. "Okay, so I think I have this really big blanket in the back of my car and if you'd rather, like, we could stop at the park, bring a bunch of books, and spend the day reading there? It's sorta what I was planning on doing anyway at the café downstairs, but the weather is nice and it could be fun."

I pondered the proposal for a moment. "That doesn't sound like such a bad idea."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, well... let's just grab, like, a bunch of books I guess, and then we'll go."

"You mean right now?"

"Sure," she laughed. "I've got nothing better to do."

I shrugged. "Alright then. Let's go."

 

. . .

 

Charlie and I trekked across the park and made our way beneath a tall tree with the perfect amount of overhang to create shade beneath the canopy of leaves and branches. I carried our bags of books while she carried her quilt in one hand and a grocery bag in the other.

"It's so nice out," I grinned, watching the children at the other end of the park running around the playground and climbing like monkeys on the red and blue play sets. They raced through the grass, pushed each other on the swings, and chased one another around the park, not a single care in the world.

_Oh how I wished I were still a kid._

The sky was painted a subtle blue with the fluffiest, whitest clouds perched over top. I stepped out of the shade and felt the sun warm my face.  It was considerably good weather for a London day, despite the city's infamous stereotype of being cold and rainy all year long.

Charlie set the grocery bag on the ground and tossed me half of the blanket. We each grabbed two corners of the and lied it out underneath tree. We collapsed almost simultaneously afterwards and grabbed our bags, me handing her the books and her handing me the groceries.

"What all did you buy?" I asked, poking through the contents of the bag.

"Just a few snacks. I figured we'd be here for a while, so I bought some food to pig-out on, yeah?"

I chuckled and leaned back on my elbows to take in the scenery; families gathering at picnic tables for parties, children tiring themselves out from overplay, dog-owners walking their panting puppies that were happily keeping pace alongside their owners. The park was buzzing with life and I felt a particular peacefulness being surrounded by such normalcy.

"What are you going to read first?" Charlie asked, breaking me from my thoughts. She laid on her stomach beside me and flipped through the pages of _Bleeding Violet_. "I think I'll start with this one."

I shook out my hair and then pushed back the layers with my fingertips. "I'm not sure. Do you have a preference?"

"I think you should read _Thirteen Reasons Why._ "

" _Thirteen Reasons Why_ it is, then." I smiled and Charlie reciprocated, her full, pink lips turning upward, causing her to squint and crinkles to appear on either side of her eyes.  _Such a beautiful smile_ , I thought to myself, and couldn't stop my gaze from lingering for a couple seconds. I turned away when I realized I was probably being weird. But she didn't seem to notice; or perhaps she _had_ noticed but decided to spare me some decency.

We laid side by side underneath the shade of the tree and cracked open our books. It felt as though a weight had lifted from my shoulders as it dawned on me that I had the entire day to myself to do absolutely anything I wanted to do.  The silence that settled upon Charlie and I while we read was comfortable and peaceful.  Charlie spent her time going back and forth between reading her book and snacking on a "Family Size" bag of crisps.  I popped some grapes into my mouth every so often, but kept my eyes glued to the story.

"How do you like your book so far?" Charlie asked, emulating my position to lie on her left side.

"I like it a lot. It's kind of... hauntingly beautiful."

"Really? Ya think?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I mean, the whole story revolves around a girl who commits suicide and wants to tell her story. Meanwhile she brings up all the shitty things people did to her to make her kill herself. It's pretty awesome."

"Ugh, you're making me want to read it again," she groaned. "It's been so long."

"Read to me, then," I suggested.

"What? Why?"

I folded my hands behind my head and closed my eyes. "You want to read it and so do I, so just read it to me from where I left off."

She thought for a moment before responding with a nonchalant, "okay." Charlie leaned over to grab my book and pull it into her lap instead. "Where are you at?"

"I'm in the middle of Cassette 3, side B. It's about Marcus. You can just start reading at the top of the page if you want."

And she did. Charlie assumed her previous position, her elbows supporting her weight as she lied on her stomach and held the book eye-level to begin reading.

Charlie was an excellent reader; not too fast, not too slow, clear pronunciation, and little to no mistakes, making listening to the story enjoyable for me. For some unknown reasons, I always found it more interesting when others read to me as opposed to reading to myself. Perhaps I liked it because it made me feel again.

My eyes fluttered open after listening to Charlie read for goodness knows how long.  Time seemed to fly when I was with her.  I turned my head and watched her milk-chocolate eyes scan quickly over the words on the page. Her shiny white teeth often exposed themselves from behind her rosy lips as she verbalized the text for my ears and my ears only. A couple strands of her dark waves blew in all different directions as a small breeze passed by us and rustled the leaves above our heads.

The longer she talked, the longer I stared. Her features remained soft but animated with sprinkles of freckles adorning her cheeks, her arched eyebrows rising and falling in time with the words she spoke, and her delicate eyelashes fluttering against her high cheekbones whenever she blinked.

"Harry, I can see you staring at me," Charlie stated mid-sentence, interrupting the flow of the story. She marked her place in the novel with her finger and looked at me stubbornly. "What are you looking at?"

I felt my cheeks heat at her words and I turned to face the tree above us. "Nothing," I lied. "I'm just listening is all." Truthfully, I had stopped paying attention to her reading ages ago. _It wasn't my fault I became more focused on her than the story._

"Are you sure?" she asked reluctantly.

"Yeah, keep going," I smiled. "You're a great reader."

"Thanks," she blushed, taking a moment to find where she left off before continuing reading. My eyes once again fell to her lips as she spoke the story to me and I could hardly suppress this sudden _urge_ I had to... I don't know.  I couldn't quite put my finger on it yet.  But I played it off as nothing. Instead, I  closed my eyes and rested my hands behind my head again.

 

. . .

 

"It's getting late," Charlie mumbled from my left.

I glanced up from my book for the first time in what seemed like hours. The park was almost completely empty aside from a couple stray walkers. Stars were just beginning to poke out from behind clouds of gray in the descending night sky.

"You're right. Do you think we have to leave?" I asked through a subtle yawn.

She shook her head. "Not unless you want to. We're not harming anything."

I dropped my book onto my stomach and glanced at my phone. My eyes widened at seeing the time. "Charlie, we've been here since _eleven o'clock."_

"And?"

"It's _nine_ now."

"No kidding?" she giggled. "Well, I guess time flies when you're having fun." She rolled onto her back to stretch, her shirt pulling up slightly to expose the skin of her abdomen.  She held the book above her face to continue reading. A few minutes passed in silence until a thought prodded in the back of my mind.

"So, like, what is this?" I asked, putting down my book and staring at the pink and orange sky gradually transitioning into night.

"Uh, depends on what you're talking about," Charlie replied, eyebrows furrowed in concentration and eyes unmoving from the page.

"This." I gestured to everything between the blanket, the food, the books, me, her.

"I don't know what you mean," she replied softly, placing the book gently over her chest and turning to face me.

I looked up and breathed a sigh. _How do you just bring something like this up without sounding like a fucking weirdo_. "Like... I don't know. Are we on a date or is this just a normal thing?"

She was quiet for a long time. I watched as her brown eyes traced the alignment of the stars growing more prominent with each passing minute. "Um, I don't know," she finally said.  "I... yeah, I don't know."

I was just about to say something when Charlie sat up abruptly. "Did you hear that?" she whispered.

"Hear what?"

"I don't know.  It sounded like voices."

I shushed her and listened for myself, but I didn't hear anything. "Are you just trying to scare me?" I asked skeptically.

"No!" she laughed. "I'm serious!"

"Well, I don't hear anything," I said, sitting up and searching the park grounds with her.  The longer we sat, the darker the surrounding scenery became.  It was too dark to read without the help of a light at this point.

"I _swear_ I heard something," she muttered under her breath.

As I was about to sprawl back out on the quilt, my eyes caught small flashes of light heading in our direction. I leaned forward to get a closer look and then I heard the voices.  They became clearer as the lights moved closer up the concrete path.

I turned to Charlie in the dark whose eyes seemed to be glued to the people walking toward us. "Uh, hey. What time does the park close?" I asked.

"I don't know," she replied. "But, something tells me that it's past closing time and those people are making sure that nobody is still here."

"Uh, I think you're right."

Charlie opened her mouth to respond, but one of the approaching officers shined their flashlight on us before she could and she grabbed my forearm with wide eyes. The two were still a good distance away, but my heart started pounding anyway.

"Harry, we have to _go_ ," she whispered, getting to her feet and beginning to throw food and books into random bags.

"Hey!" a voice called from where they stood.

" _Oh fuck_ ," I cursed, jumping to my feet and to help Charlie put our belongings away.

"Hey! Wait," they yelled before transitioning their pace into a light jog towards us.

"Oh my God," Charlie panicked. I picked up our bags and slipped on my shoes hurriedly.

"You're not supposed to be here!" they called, breaking into a sprint towards us. The two probably thought we snuck in after hours as opposed to spending the entire day there and then losing track of time. 

Charlie shrieked and I grabbed her hand as she snatched the blanket in her other hand. I turned my head swiftly in each direction, but it was hard to see in the growing darkness. "Where's the closest entrance?"

"This way," Charlie giggled nervously, already pulling me in the direction she was headed. I risked a glance behind us and my heart pounded at the sight of the two (what looked like) policeman chasing after us.

"Shit," I breathed, forcing my legs to move quicker. We ignored the angry shouts from the men behind us and continued running until the park exit came into view. Fortunately, the gate was still open.

I panted as the distance between us and the exit decreased. We made it out of the park just fine, but for some reason we didn't stop running. We shoved past people on the sidewalk and dodged street lamps to ensure we kept a fair distance from the cops on our tail. Charlie and I made it at least a block or two away to where both of our cars were parked before we even considered stopping. Our feet slapped hard against the concrete and our breaths hitched as we wore ourselves down, tiring out quickly from our impromptu run. I glimpsed behind us again and slowed to a stop once I realized the there was no longer anyone behind us.

"Charlie, they're gone." I breathed, pulling her back by her hand.  Her delayed reaction meant it took an extra second or two for us to come to a complete stop. She paused a few feet in front of me, our arms extended towards each other from our intertwined fingers as we ran.  I blushed a little at the contact and dropped her hand, taking a second to recover.  We hunched over slightly resting our hands on our knees to catch our breaths.

After a couple seconds of gasping for air a small, breathy giggle escaped Charlie's lips. I looked up to see her eyes still cast down at her feet.

"What on _earth_ could you possibly be laughing at?" I said, causing her to erupt into contagious laughter. She stalked over to me to brace herself, doubling over even further.

"What is it?" I laughed, bending down to her height.

She shrugged lazily, attempting to catch her breath. "I can't believe that just happened," she choked. "I can't believe we just got chased down by park rangers. I just..." She was laughing so hard she couldn't even finish her sentence.

I smiled and pulled her into a hug, chuckling to myself as she buried her face into my chest. An aisle of street lamps produced the only source of light around us, causing small breaks in the increasingly black night. Our pounding hearts slowed to a normal rate and the exhilaration from the previous events soon fell. It soon dawned on me the way we were standing, her arms around my torso and mine around her shoulders. I couldn't describe what I was thinking and feeling, but, like, it was weirdly... _okay._  Like, I didn't know how to describe it.  It was just _nice._  

Charlie was the first to pull away, drawing her head away from my body and looking shyly up at me. Our eyes met before briefly I glimpsed down to her parted lips again for the umpteenth time today.

_Fuck._

Goosebumps rose prominently on my skin as her hand came up and brushed gently against my cheek, gradually moving to rest on the back of my neck. She sent me a look that I couldn't quite place, but I didn't have much time to contemplate it before she leaned forward and pressed her soft lips to mine. At first it caught me off guard and took me a moment to realize what was happening.

Oh my god.

Oh my _fucking_ god.

My mind felt like it was racing as I felt my lips resting softly against hers. My arm dropped to her waist and I pulled her closer to me as she rested her palm against my chest. The kiss didn't last long, and it surely didn't last long _enough_. Charlie pulled away only a couple seconds later, and it took a moment for my eyes to open and my head to adjust to what had just happened.

"Why did you do that?" I asked, dumb-founded.

Charlie's eyes fluttered open and she met my gaze. Her pupils shrink and her breathing became hitched. "I... I don't know." She stepped back and ran a hand through her hair. "Christ, you've been looking at my lips all day and you did it again just before that and-"

"I didn't think you noticed. You didn't say anything..."

"I didn't say anything because I didn't think it _was_ anything until like just now..." She turned her face and shook away from my touch. "I'm sorry."

"No, no. It's okay," I tried to tell her.

"No, it's not okay," she said, bending down to grab her quilt and books piled messily at our feet. "I shouldn't have done that. I- _fuck_."

"Charlie, seriously-"

"I'm gonna go," she whispered as she pulled herself to her feet. "I'm sorry. I'll... text you or something." My heart thumped hard in my chest as she began walking away from me, head bowed and her fingers combing softly through her hair. I wanted to call out to her and tell her that I wasn't mad or upset, but I couldn't. I was in too much shock to think clearly. I stood, staring at the spot Charlie had been standing and traced my fingertips softly over my lips, feeling the warmth against my cold fingers.

I closed my eyes and smiled.

 

**_A/N: Hi there! How is everyone? I've really missed talking to you guys):_ **

**_I already have a start on the next chapter, so that should be posted soon! Love you guys!_ **

**_Cute as a button, every single one of you(:_ **

**_-Mia <3_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi everyone! How are you? I've really missed talking to you guys):
> 
> I'm really disappointed with how this chapter turned out, so I'm dearly sorry if that was the case for you too. The next one will hopefully be a lot better!
> 
> I love you guys!
> 
> Cute as a button, every single one of you(:  
> -Mia<3


	9. Chapter 7

***Charlie's POV***

 

"What do you want from me?" I chuckled, turning my attention away from the book in my hands and to my kitten as he prodded my leg with his small claws. When he realized I was finally paying him the attention he desired, he stretched out his legs and rolled onto his back, exposing his belly. "Is this what you wanted?" I asked reaching down to scratch his stomach. "You wanted a belly-rub?"

His head lolled back and his eyes closed in bliss. I chuckled and diverted my eyes back to my book, scratching Sir Paw's stomach with my one free hand. I listened happily to the light  _pitter-patter_ of raindrops drumming softly against my roof and the steady breeze blowing against the siding of my house. It was the perfect kind of day to spend reading, sleeping, cooking, or watching films, some of my favorite rainy day activities.

It'd been a week since Harry and I last saw each other. I hadn't called or texted like I said I would and since then, I'd been feeling this terribly guilty conscience weighing heavily in the back of my mind. I left him standing there stranded on the sidewalk and now I feared more than anything that I'd hurt him, the one person who had been through enough hurt in his life to last a lifetime... at _least_.

I was shaken from my jumbled thoughts when my phone buzzed beside me. Keeping my eyes glued to my book, I slid my thumb across the screen and brought it up to my ear.

"Hello?"

My book fell from my clutch and I grabbed the phone with both hands as I was greeted by a series of unmistakable sobs—choking, coughing, body-rattling and downright painful sobs. The book falling suddenly into my lap startled my cat and caused him to scurry down the hallway to my bedroom. I pulled the phone away from my face to read Harry's name as the contact.

_Oh no._

Bringing the phone back to my ear I murmured worriedly, "Harry? Is that you? What's wrong? Why are you crying?" Still, there was no reply, only the sound of gasping and incoherent blubbering. My heart pounded furiously in my chest at the sound of his unyielding hysteria. "Harry, answer me," I pleaded, willing myself not to panic, but failing immensely.

"I didn't know who else to call," he cried. "I don't have anyone else."

"It's okay, it's okay," I soothed. "You can always call me."

He coughed wetly and muttered through harsh sobs, "I'm a m-mess."

"Harry, tell me what happened," I pleaded. "You can tell me."

"I was a-at my counselor's for a session— _inhale_ —and w-when I went to leave— _exhale_ —there was a crowd w-waiting for me outside _._ I don't know how they knew I was there," he wept loudly.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," I hushed softly, pacing the room and running my fingers through my hair, thinking of what to say or do.

He heaved a heavy sigh and continued.  "There were paparazzi and- and people kept screaming and grabbing me."

"Harry, you should have gone back inside. I would have come to get you..."

"I thought I could do it," he whimpered. "I thought I could do it, but they crowded me and kept asking me why I did it.  A-and when they started grabbing me and trying to pull up my s-sleeves, I lost it. Why couldn't they just leave me alone?" he sobbed.

"Harry— _fuck_ —I'm so sorry." I leaned my forehead against the wall and looked sullenly down at my feet.My heart clenched for this undeserving boy.

He was quiet for another moment before he spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. "I did something. I hurt myself. I'm- I'm so sorry."

My head spun and I suddenly felt weak in the knees when the first things that came to mind was,  _he cut again._

"Harry, oh my god, please don't tell me..."

"I didn't," he cut off. "I just- I scratched myself. Hard. All over my arms. All over my cuts.  It was like I forgot the cuts were there, even when I started bleeding. It felt so good. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

My eyes widened at his words. "You're bleeding? God, Harry, how bad is it? Do you need an ambulance?"

"No!" he said loudly, causing me to jump slightly at his voice. "Please, no! Don't call an ambulance. I don't wanna go back to the hospital.  I can't."

"They'll help you," I explained softly. "They'll make sure you're okay."

"Please, Charlie, don't call an ambulance. I will _never_ forgive you if you if you do. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he cried, his body racking with uncontrollable sobs.

I rubbed my temples, contemplating my options. _He doesn't want an ambulance_ , _but he's hurt and bleeding.  What the hell am I supposed to do?_

It was as if my body had switched into auto-pilot once I decided that I needed to take matters into my own hands. I rushed down the hallway to my bedroom and rummaged through my closet, pulling out an old sweatshirt and jerking it over my head. I set my phone on the bedside table and shimmied into a pair of jeans and slip-on shoes. When I held the phone to my ear again Harry hadn't calmed down in the slightest; in fact it seemed like things had gotten even worse. He sounded like he was having trouble breathing.

"Calm down, Harry. Breathe. It's gonna be alright. I won't call an ambulance, but listen to me; you have to listen to me. Where are you right now?"

He inhaled sharply and replied, "I'm sitting in the car in my driveway. I haven't moved. I can't," he panicked, and I quickly hushed him.

"That's good," I assured him as I ran halfway down my hallway to the closet with all of my household medical items. I grabbed a roll of gauze and shoved an assortment of painkillers into my purse, deciding that reading the labels to find the right ones would take far too long. "You're safe right now and that's all that matters."

"I don't know what to do," he whimpered so painfully my heart twinged at his words. "I'm alone and my arms hurt and-"

"It's okay. You don't have to do anything, Harry. I'm on my way over right now, but I need your address." I waited, hoping his sobs would cease long enough for him to answer me, but it seemed unlikely. "Harry, come on," I encouraged.  "You need somebody there to help you. Please tell me where you live."

Between a series of hiccups and wet coughs he recited his address and I scribbled it quickly onto a piece of paper. I grabbed a water bottle out of the fridge and jogged outside to my car, slamming the front door closed behind me. The rain pelted me as I hurried down the stooped driveway and threw my car door open.

"Are you really coming?" he cried softly.

"Yes.  I'm on my way right now," I said calmly despite my heart pounding ferociously in my chest.  I placed the phone in my drink holder and put it on speaker while I drove. "Can you hear me still?"

"Yes," he choked. "Fuck, I feel like I can't breathe, Charlie."

"Okay, listen to me," I said evenly, stopping my car at the entrance of my neighborhood and looking both ways before proceeding. "It sounds like up you're having a panic attack right now. You're going to be fine. People have panic attacks all the time. It just means you're..." I struggled to find the right word.  "...overwhelmed. It means you're just really overwhelmed." I continued talking to him, in the hopes that he was still listening. "I don't want you to be scared, but you have to try to breathe. I don't want you passing out on me, yeah?" I stopped at a red light briefly before making an illegal right turn, mentally praying I wouldn't get pulled over on my way to Harry's. "Take some deep breaths; in through you nose, out through your mouth." I heard his attempts at culminating his short, rapid breaths. "That's it. Just like that."

Panic attacks were not something to take lightly, but they were also not life-threatening on their own. They're distressing for the victim and people who are present at the time of the episode. It's difficult for people who are affected to distinguish the difference between real danger and the danger their minds have created.  If they believe it, then to them it's real.  In this case, Harry truly believed he was in danger and needed someone to help him get back to normal.

"I feel lightheaded," he said, breaking me from my thoughts.

_Jesus Christ, please don't faint._

"Okay, calm down.  Rest your head back on your seat and recline your chair," I advised. "Keep taking deep breaths. You're doing so well, Harry." I turned down a busy street, my windshield wipers turned on high to help me see the road through the harsh downpour.

"How close are you," he breathed. "I need you." My heart pounded at hearing the desperation behind his words. _He needed me._

"Just a few more minutes and I'll be there. I promise."

I talked to him through the phone, soothing him and distracting him from his current situation until I made it to his neighborhood and stopped at the gates of the surrounding community. I coerced Harry into giving me the code to open the gates and pulled through once they parted. As I drove through the neighborhood, I was astounded by how big and beautiful these houses were, by far some of the most beautiful houses I'd ever seen.

My eyes searched log and hard for the address that matched Harry's. Once his address appeared on the mailbox of one of the most colossal houses I'd seen yet, I pulled off the street and onto the curb just outside of his house.  I pulled my keys out of the ignition and flung the door open, grabbing my phone and purse off the passengers seat and running with my head down, hood covering my face to prevent it from getting wet. The rain hadn't let up in the slightest and I was growing irritated.

"Harry, I'm here. I'll see you in a second," I said and ended the call. I walked up alongside his car and heard the doors unlock as I approached. I opened the passenger door and hauled myself into the seat of his SUV, closing the door and furiously shaking the water out of my hair, loose strands clinging to my wet face. I turned to face Harry, my heart falling to my stomach at the sight of him—tousled hair, damp cheeks, raw nose, and puffy red eyes.

"Harry," I breathed, pushing the hair out of my face. I was at a loss for words.

"I can't believe you actually came," he said, tears welling in his eyes.

I smiled sympathetically.  "Of course, I came, Love.  Don't cry. " I leaned over and pulled him into into a tight embrace and rested my chin on his shoulder as he buried his face into my chest, his salty tears mixing with the raindrops coating my sweatshirt. I rubbed circles into his back with one hand and tugged him close with the other as he cried silently into me.  I ran my fingers through his hair to soothe him until he'd calmed down. After a couple minutes, Harry  pulled away from me and sat back up in his seat, a look of exhaustion washing over him.  I reached out to him and wiped away the stray tears falling down his cheeks with my sweatshirt sleeve while holding his chin in my other hand like a mother would her child. "How are you feeling?" I asked him, inspecting his face, his irises sparkling like emeralds.

"My mouth is dry," he said.

"That's normal," I told him and reached into my bag to pull out the water I'd brought for him. "Luckily, I came prepared."

Smiling, he took the bottle from me and unscrewed the lid. "Small sips," I cautioned, placing my hand on his shoulder. When he pulled it away from his mouth he closed his eyes and placed the bottle in his lap.

"Better?"

"Much," he replied sucking in a not-as-shaky breath. I did a brief once-over of him, noting the his red scleras, runny nose, and quivering body as well as the small beads of sweat clinging to his hairline. He released a cough that had him clutching his chest and I rummaged through my purse to pull out a bottle of pain medication. My eyes scanned over the label to see if it was the one I was looking for.

"What's that for?" Harry asked, eyeing the medicine in my hands.

"It's for you," I explained. "It's gonna relieve some of the pain you're feeling." I unscrewed the lid and handed him three red pills. "Take these."

He glanced at the pills in his hand reluctantly. "Are you sure?"

"Harry, I'm a _nurse_. Are you really asking me that question?" I smiled as he downed the tablets followed by a small swig of water. "You'll start feeling better here soon," I said, waiting until I was sure he'd swallowed the pills before taking initiative again. "Okay, listen to me," I said, pulling his attention back to me. "I need to see what you did."

"Charlie... I just—"

"What?"

Harry shook his head and avoided my gaze. "Once I started, I couldn't stop.  I _liked_ it.  I actually liked how it felt to hurt myself." He tugged at his sleeves, pulling them down further to conceal and protect his injuries. "I felt so in control after being overwhelmed earlier that I just couldn't stop." He wiped his eyes on his sweatshirt and sobbed, "Oh God, I'm never gonna get better."

"Harry..."

"I'm sorry," he whimpered. "I didn't mean to. I just couldn't help it." Tears began streaming down his face again, and I instinctively leaned over to pull him tightly into my arms.

"Harry, listen to me. You _will_ get better," I promised. "It hasn't even been a month since the incident. You just need to give yourself some time to heal, mentally and physically, okay?" He nodded unsurely and I rubbed his back.

"It's bad," he whispered. "So bad."

"What is? Your arms?" The lack of response assured me that I was correct. "It's alright," I cooed. "I've seen stuff like this before." He peered down at his lap where his sleeves were balled in his fists. I placed my hand over his and asked, "May I?" He nodded and blinked away his tears as I took his arm carefully in my grip and gently rolled up the sleeve. My stomach nearly dropped at the sight.  He was right.  It was _bad_.

The skin that was in the process of healing was absolutely ravaged. A mixture of dried and newly shed blood clung heavily to his forearm, staining his arm and the inside of his sweater in a sickly red pigment as it seeped from his brandished wounds.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, turning away. "I'm so sorry."

"It's alright, Harry. You don't have to apologize. I'm just gonna help clean you up, yeah?" I smiled softly.

He arched an eyebrow. "You swear you won't call an ambulance?"

I nodded.  "I promise."  Having him shoved into an unsympathetic, cold, white room was just about the last thing he needed right now.  And at this point, he'd never forgive me. "I won't do that to you," I assured him.

He rested his head back on his seat and sighed in relief. "Thank you, Charlie."  I met his glassy eyes, and although he still looked a right _mess_ , he seemed to be much more at ease.

I gently pulled his sleeve back down and grabbed his hand, squeezing his palm reassuringly. He looked at our hands and then at me. "Let's go inside," I told him, gesturing to his house, and for the first time today he attempted a genuine smile.

 

**. . .**

 

I followed Harry inside, pulling off my hood as we stepped into the dimly lit kitchen. The room was enormous, equip with new stainless steal appliances, cabinets a glossy white, and a massive island stationed in the middle of the kitchen.  The room itself was bigger than my entire house, and had I not had something important to do, I could have stood there gaping for hours.

"Okay," I started, dropping my purse on the counter and stalking to the sink to wash my hands. "I need a washcloth, some towels and a sponge if you have one."

"Hall closet," he said, pointing a finger in the direction of the sliding door a step or two down the hallway.  I found all three things in no time, the towel and washcloth on the top shelf and an unused sponge in a small white basket at eye level. I closed the door with my foot and walked back into the kitchen, bearing all three items in my hands.

"Take off your shirt," I said, plugging the drain in the sink and pulling up my sleeves to start filling the basin with water.

"Is that a request or a demand?" he snickered and I splashed water at him playfully.  I was surprised by his quick retort but I smiled as it appeared he was beginning to recover from his episode and return to himself.  I turned back around to watch the warm water pouring from the faucet an filling the sink as Harry worked himself out of his sweater. I turned the water off and glimpsed behind me to come face to face with a shirtless Harry, a string of tattoos adorning his strong arms and chest, causing me to do a double-take. I gulped and tried blinking away my surprise. "You have a lot of tattoos," I said, admiring the sparrows inked expertly along his collar bones and the butterfly below his sternum before trailing my eyes to the tattoos running down his left arm: the nails beneath the heart on his bicep, the ship, the rose, and lastly the anchor on his wrist.

"I've noticed." He chuckled lightly and examined his own arm. "I've lost count."

I smiled and herded him over to the sink. I ran the fresh washcloth under a stream of cool water and rang out some of the excess liquid. "Put this against forehead," I advised. "It'll cool you down. You're still sweating."

Harry accepted the cloth from me and folded it into thirds to rest over his temple. The second it made contact with his face, he breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh. Wow, thank you," he breathed.

"You're welcome. And now for the fun part," I said looking up at him nervously as if asking for permission to start.

"It's okay," he exhaled, extending his arm and turning his face the other way.  I grabbed the sponge off the counter and doused it in the warm sink water until it was completely full. Harry held the cool, wet rag to his forehead and refused to watch as I pressed the sponge to the underside of his arm, allowing the water to run into the sink before pressing it further down his arm where the cuts began. He hissed as I applied pressure, causing me to I apologized profusely. I continued until all of the fresh and dry blood on his forearms had disappeared, leaving only the pulsing cuts on his arms.

"They already look better than before," I admitted as I finished, but the look in his eyes told me he wasn't convinced. "I'm serious," I said, clutching the towel in my hand gently dabbing his cuts, soaking up the beaded water on each arm. "They'll start healing on their own again shortly. It's just gonna hurt like hell until then." When I looked up at him, I noticed his green eyes glassing over and I had pull every string in my body to resist the urge to kiss him again.

Afraid I would do something I didn't mean, I quickly broke eye contact and slid past him to take a seat at the table. "I think I should finish up here so you can get some rest.  You've been through a lot."

Harry nodded and joined me at the table as I started pulling the disinfectant and gauze from my purse. I used two fingers to apply the disinfectant lightly to his wounds and then proceeded to gently wrap his arms in bandages from the bottom of his wrists to the area just below his elbows where the injuries stopped.

"Déjà vu," he murmured under his breath and a grin spread across my lips.  I could feel his eyes on me as I worked, but I still refused to look up.

Just as I was finishing up, I felt his hand brush against my face, my breath hitching slightly in my throat. My fingers stumbled momentarily and I sucked in a surprised breath. He brushed the hair in my face behind my ear and then placed his hand back in his lap.

"Th-thanks," I stammered, hoping he wouldn't noticed the blush creeping onto my cheeks.

"You're welcome," he said.

I stood up to rinse the medicine off my hands and re-wet the cloth Harry had been pressing to his forehead previously.  I sent him off to the living room with the washcloth in hand as I cleaned up the mess in the kitchen. I rummaged through Harry's cupboards in search of a glass for ice water to take into him.  After opening several cabinets, I found what I was looking for.

I entered the living room with the glass in hand and set it on the coffee table in front of Harry as he unfolded a blanket to place over himself.  He took the glass off the table and brought it to his lips to take a small sip with the same warm, pink lips I kissed a few nights prior...

I snapped myself out of it before I got too invested in my little fantasy and shifted my eyes around the sizable room for the first time since walking in.  I inhaled the sight of the glossy black grande piano stationed at one end of the room, an arching staircase at the opposite end of the room, and a beautiful bay window tucked comfortably in the back overlooking his backyard.

_Oh, the things I would do to live in a place like this._

Harry lied on the couch and pulled the blanket over himself, peering up at the ceiling tiredly. After confirming that things had settled down and everything seemed to be a little better, I grabbed my purse from the doorway and slung it over my shoulder.

"Harry, I think I'm gonna get going.  But if you still feel like you need me, I'm happy to stay here with you.  Are you okay?"

He nodded. "I'm fine.  I'll be okay.  You can go.  But before you go," he reached out and grabbed my hand, causing goosebumps to form all over my body. "I want to thank you," he said finally.

"Harry, you know-"

He cut me off.  "No, Charlie. Let me finish."  My eyes widened a bit at his seriousness.  I pressed my lips tightly together and bit the inside of my cheek nervously. "I want to thank you... for everything—for listening to me, caring about me, even being here to help me. You have _no_ idea how much all of it means to me.  You've done more for me in the small amount of time that I've known you than anyone else ever has. I'm serious. I can't thank you enough."

I smiled shyly and squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Get some sleep," I told him and he squeezed my hand in return before dropping his hand and watching me exit his house to return home.

 

**. . .**

 

***Harry's POV***

 

I woke up later that night after a car backfired a couple houses down from mine. My head still pounded from the aftermath of my episode and my mouth felt like a desert. I wanted nothing more than to fall back asleep, but the painkillers Charlie gave me were beginning to wear off.

I tugged off my blanket and wandered into the kitchen, refilling my glass at the sink in the meantime. I downed another couple of pills with a swig of water, but when I turned around to head back into the living room, I noticed something on the counter. My eyes traveled to a piece of scratch paper sitting on the counter top, two bold words scribbled on the top in thick black marker. I picked it up in my hands and read the words over and over again in my head, skimming over the signature at the bottom last.

_**Remember: Excelsior** _

_**-Love,** _

_**Charlie(:** _

After I came back to my senses, I grabbed my phone off the counter and scrolled through my contacts until I found Charlie's name. It was just now nearing midnight, but I decided to send a text anyway, knowing that she would see it in the morning when she woke up. I typed out my message to her and sent it with the click of  button.  Once I was sure it had sent, I placed the phone back on the counter to charge and returned to my previous spot on the couch to indulge in restful sleep.

 

**. . .**

 

**To: Charlie**

**From: Harry**

**Mission Excelsior = in action from this point forward.**

 

**_A/N: Hello, my darlings(: Enjoying your summer? I know I am!_ **

**_So... I have a quick question I'd like to throw out to you guys. Which ship name do you guys prefer for Harry and Charlie:_ **

**_Harlie_ **

**_or_ **

**_Charry?_ **

**_Please comment your thoughts!_ **

**_I love you all very much(:_ **

**_Cute as a button, every single one of you(:_ **

**_-Mia <3_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello, my darlings(: How are you guys? Enjoying your summer? I know I am!
> 
> So... I have a quick question I'd like to throw out to you guys. Which ship name do you guys prefer for Harry and Charlie:
> 
> Harlie  
> or  
> Charry?
> 
> Please comment your thoughts!
> 
> I love you all very much(:
> 
> Cute as a button, every single one of you(:  
> -Mia<3


	10. Chapter 8

***Harry's POV***

 

 _Come on, Harry. Just fucking do it already. Stop being a wuss and just_ call _her for fuck's sake._ Why was this so hard for me? All I had to do was pick up my goddamn phone and call her. I was so _pathetic._

I stared at the screen, my thumb ghosting over her contact.  Part of me was still embarrassed about my episode the other day, but another part of me kept trying to convince myself that it was something that happened outside of my control. Still... what if Charlie saw me in a different light now.  What if she didn't want to be around me anymore or talk to me anymore or-

I clenched my fists in frustration and grudgingly pressed the 'call' button before my nerves could get the best of me. The rings echoed in my ears as I waited to hear the sound of Charlie's voice to answer.  The neckline of my sweater felt like it was becoming tighter and tighter, closing around my throat and trying to suffocate me as I nervously awaited an answer.

_"Hey, this is Charlie. I can't get to the phone right now, but leave me a message and I'll call you back."_

I mentally cursed and hung up, collapsing back onto the couch and staring up at the ceiling in a daze. _All that worrying for nothing_ , I thought, dragging my fingers down my face and releasing a subtle sigh. A few minutes passed when I finally heard my phone vibrating on the coffee table.  I turned my head in time to see it light up. I brushed off my sweaty palms on my jeans before picking up my phone and swiping my thumb across the screen to answer.

"Hello?" I said, running a hand through my messy hair.

"Hey, Harry. Sorry I missed your call." Charlie's voice made my stomach flutter and I swallowed to keep my mouth from drying out.

"Uh, hi," I started, clearing my throat.  "It's alright. I kinds assumed you were working."

"Yeah," she replied. "It's lunchtime here and I was handing out lunch to my patients."

My palms grew clammy and my leg bobbed up and down as I sat nervously on the sofa. "Yeah, um, speaking of lunch," I began. "I was sorta wondering if you, like, wanted to go to lunch with me during your break. Uh, I don't know when your lunch break is..." I leaned back into the couch cushions and rubbed softly at my temples. "But, yeah... um, it's just an offer and I understand if you're busy or if you don't really want to..." It was silent on the opposite end for a moment and I thought for sure I'd ruined it by making things awkward.

_Way to go, Styles._

"You know, my break should be coming up here shortly," she explained. "Plus, I haven't been out to eat for lunch in _ages_."

I perked up a little at her seemingly positive response. "Good, so I'll pick you up then?" I said as more of a question than a statement.

"Sure, that'd be great. I'll see you in a bit," she said and ended the call.

I exhaled a sigh of relief and fended a loopy grin from spreading on my face at the thought that she'd accepted my proposal, despite my blinding awkwardness. _I sound like a bloody fifteen year-old,_ I said. But I didn't care because, regardless, I got to see Charlie again today.

 

**. . .**

 

Walking into the hospital, I was greeted by the strong aroma of cleaning solution and sanitizer. I stepped through the lobby noticing how much warmer the temperature inside was compared to the chilly spring air outside. Despite the warmth I felt, I pulled my shirtsleeves down my arms and clutched them in my fists, crossing my arms over my chest to pull my jacket tighter around my body. My eyes scanned the lobby in search of Charlie, but I ended up having to walk up to the reception counter for help. The receptionist was the same young woman I had encountered just a few days prior to this visit.  She looked up and narrowed her eyes at me, tilting her head thoughtfully.

"Hey, aren't you the one who brought all those flowers to Charlie last week?" she inquired.

I scratched the back of my neck.  "Uh, yeah, I guess."

"How nice of you," she smiled. "What can I do for you?"

"Um, I'm here to see Charlie again. She said she would be on her lun-"

" _Harry!_ "

I turned in the direction of the voice and saw Charlie entering the lobby from one of the long corridors.

"Er, never mind," I dismissed quickly and walked over to meet Charlie halfway. She smiled when she reached me and pecked my cheek as I pulled her into a quick embrace.

"How are you?" she asked.

"Uh, better. Better than when you last saw me," I admitted sheepishly. A hint of embarrassment flood my face and I mentally cursed, shying away from her gaze.

She pulled away and ruffled my hair, her lips turning up. "Good to hear."

"Yeah, yeah. So are you ready to go?"

She hummed in response and trifled through her purse. "Just gotta make sure I have everything I need..."

The automatic doors at the front of the lobby opened and I adverted my eyes to where a girl, probably around nine or so, and (presumably) her mother were making their way into the lobby. The mother looked distressed and the little girl was in tears, whimpering softly as she clutched her limp arm to her chest. I noticed the girl's scarlet red and navy blue uniform, complete with cleats to match, and dark hair pulled back into a tight pony tail, loose hairs framing her small, tear-streaked face.

"Uh, Charlie..." I said, nudging her arm and nodding my head in the direction of the two. Charlie followed my gaze.

"Oh my goodness, what happened to you, Sweetheart?" Charlie asked gently, bending down to the little girl height.

She released a choked sob and wiped her eyes with her hand as more tears fell in unison down her cheeks. "We were at her game," her mother explained. "She was keeper and a player from the other team tried to score, but when she blocked it with her hand, it snapped, I'm sure of it."

Charlie clicked her tongue. "Well it's a good thing you came here," she told the girl with a sympathetic smile. "We're gonna get you all fixed up, okay?" She nodded and puckered her bottom lip into a pout, her eyes still watering. "My name is Charlie. What's your name?"

"Emma," she sniffled.

"Well, Emma, I'm a nurse here, so I'll get you settled into a room," Charlie announced.  "You can follow me this way," she said and started walking backwards in the direction of where she came. "I'm sorry, Harry. I'll be right back. This'll only take a second."

I nodded understandingly and watched her disappear with the mother and injured little girl. I stood uncomfortably for a couple minutes, fiddling with my fingers and staring down the hallway that Charlie walked down. I was just considering taking a seat by the front desk when I felt a light tug on the back of my shirt. Startled, I spun around and glimpsed down to see a boy staring up at me. He looked to be about four.

"Hi," he said curtly.

"Uh, hi, kid."

"Are you a nurse?" he asked me.

I looked around to find a source, like a parent or something, that he came from because he just sort of... appeared. "Um, no. I'm sorry. I'm just here to pick up my friend."

"Oh, okay," he said, zoning out slightly and watching people walk around. "Is that lady you were with a nurse?  She was wearing nurse clothes."

"Yeah, she's a nurse," I confirmed and he smiled giddily. "Uh, are your parents here?" I asked, scoping the room.

He pointed in the direction of the waiting area and said, "My mummy's in there. She's sick but I had to come with her here because she couldn't find me a babysitter.  I'm trying to find a nurse to take care of her," he explained simply.  "Maybe your friend can help since she's a nurse!"

"Does your mummy know you left the waiting room?" I asked.

"I don't know," he shrugged.  "She's asleep."

I scratched the back of my neck awkwardly because kids weren't exactly my strong suit. I didn't know how to interact with them. "Well, maybe you should get back in there. She might get upset if she wakes up and can't find you."

"Will you come with me?" he asked.

"What?"

The little boy stretched his arms up in the air and yawned, his dinosaur shirt rising just enough to expose his plump-with-baby-fat belly. "There's no other kids here and I need someone to color with."

I looked around for any sign of Charlie, but she still wasn't back yet. "Kid, I'm twenty-four years old..."

" _Please_ ," the boy pleaded, sticking out his bottom lip.  Okay, to be honest, he pretty adorable— short, messy hair sweeping his forehead, cheeks full and pink, deep, brown, puppy-dog eyes. He was small compared to me, his height a major disadvantage as he stood a good distance away to look up at me without straining his neck.

I figured I could be standing here a while waiting for Charlie to return, so I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. "Sure, why not?"

The child grinned a wide, crooked smile. My eyes widened as he grabbed my hand and wrapped his fingers around my fingertips and pulled me into the waiting room. The room was full of the elderly, parents with their babies, and a handful of middle-aged men and women. One thing was for certain: there definitely wasn't anyone else here of the same age as the little boy. The kid dragged me over to a section of chairs where he plopped down beside an open coloring book and an assortment of crayons. He pulled them both onto his lap and patted the seat next to him.

"Here. These are your crayons," he said, handing me five colors from the pack: a red, orange, yellow, green, and blue. "Now which of these do you want to color?" He flipped through the book (which I discovered to be pirate-themed) and pointed to each page as he went.

"Uh, whatever you want me to color, I guess. Surprise me."

"Here you can do this one," he said and gestured to a parrot wearing an eye patch.  "I'll color this pirate," he declared, running his hand over the page in front of him to smooth it out.

We spent the next couple minutes scribbling crayons over thin paper.  This kid (whose name I didn't even know) and I sat side by side in this goddamn hospital waiting room coloring in a children's coloring book. _I cannot believe this_ , I thought.

I was focused on shading one of the bird's feathers a bright green when he tapped my hand. I looked down at him and watched his eyes study my face. "I've seen you before," he stated bluntly and I squinted in confusion. "I don't know where, though." He picked at the paper around his orange crayon and kicked his legs back and forth. "What's your name? I'm Noah."

"My name's Harry," I told him, glancing down to fill in the belly of the bird.

"Harry." He tasted the word on his tongue and studied my face again. " _Wait._ I know where I've seen you," Noah told me with wide eyes. "I've seen you on the telly before!  I saw you on the news!"

 _Of course_. I took a deep breath and gave him a half ass-ed smile. He probably _had_ seen me on the TV before, likely more than once. I know I've seen myself plenty of times before, and even more now since my incident.

"Yeah, I've been on the TV before. I'm sure that's where you saw me."

"Wow," he whispered, his eyes sparkling in admiration. "That's amazing! How did you get on there?"

My heart raced in my chest at his question. "I'm not sure," I lied through my teeth. "It must have been by coincidence."

He nodded in faux-understanding and returned to his coloring book. I'd just about finished coloring in the parrot's beak a soft orange when my concentration was interrupted by someone sitting down beside me. I turned and met Charlie's eyes.

"Whatcha doing?" she asked me, grinning the cheekiest of smiles as she observed the small crayons in my large hands and the coloring book in my lap.

Noah leaned forward to and looked at Charlie. "I'm Noah," he informed her even though she hadn't asked. Charlie bit her lip to keep from laughing. "I asked Harry to color with me because my friends aren't here," he explained.

"Well isn't that nice of him!" she enthused, teasingly nudging my arm in the process.  I felt my cheeks heat at her taunting remarks and I hid my cheek in my shoulder blade. "Can I see what you two colored?"

Noah took the book off my lap and handed it to Charlie. Her eyes wandered back and forth between the two pages, lingering longer on my side than his.

 _God, kill me now_ , I prayed.

"Looks great, guys," she smiled softly, returning the book to Noah's lap. He beamed and plucked a purple crayon out of the box and into his grip. "Hey Noah. Would you mind if I stole Harry from ya for a bit?  We were planning on heading to lunch right now."

"Is it a date?" he asked seriously.

I swallowed hard as Charlie glanced up to me and then returned her gaze back to Noah. "It's just lunch," she answered, and although it shouldn't have affected me, my heart couldn't help sinking at how she had so easily turned down the idea of it being a date.

"Yeah. That's okay." He looked up at me, kicking his legs back and forth again. "Thanks for coloring with me. Are we friends now?"

I half-laughed and wiped my hands on the fabric of my jeans. "Uh, yeah. Sure."

"Good. Well maybe I'll see you again. Maybe you'll be on my TV."

I sucked my bottom lip between my teeth and glimpsed at Charlie. "Maybe," I said. "I'll see you around, kiddo."He waved to Charlie and I as we stood up from our seats and headed out of the room.

"What was that all about?" Charlie snickered.

"I... I honestly don't even know," I admitted. "He came up to me after you left and asked me to color with him. I have no clue what happened."

"Maybe you're just a child magnet," she teased. "Maybe children just flock to you."

"Funny."

She adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder. "Well I thought it was quite cute," she admitted shamelessly. I felt a blush come on, but willed it to go away. "Do you like kids?"

"I liked _that_ kid, I guess."

"But what about in general?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I'm never around kids.  You seem to know how to handle them better than I do."

"You were doing fine with him on your own," she complimented. We approached my car and I opened the door for her.  She smiled and thanked me and I walked around to hop into the driver's seat beside her.

"I don't know how to act around kids. I don't know how to act around _anyone_ , really."

"You seem just fine around me," she said quietly.

What I wanted to say was, _"yeah, bit it's pretty fucking hard when you're you and I'm me and I kinda, sorta, really, like you a lot,"_ but I ended up not saying anything at all.

 

**. . .**

 

I was lounging on the couch later that night, flipping through channels and watching whatever movies I could find. I was tired and considering resorting to my bedroom for some much-needed rest, but it was only just a few minutes past nine.

Charlie and I had spent her lunch break at a secluded diner down the street from the hospital.  For a spur-of-the-moment lunch date, I was surprised by how much easier it was to talk to her in person rather than over the phone. I could never quite grasp what I wanted to say, but when she was sitting only two feet away from me, things came a bit more naturally. She tended to talk and I tended to listen. I liked listening to her. I liked her stories. I liked hearing her voice. I liked _her_.

"I'm sorry I held you up back at the hospital," she told me. "I meant for it to only take a second, but I ended up having to find another nurse to take care of it and-"

"It's alright," I told her, sipping my milkshake out of the corner of my mouth. "We still have plenty of time before you need to be back."

"I just felt bad for keeping you waiting."

"Hey, I found something productive to do. It's fine."

"And you made a new friend out of it too," she winked.

Maybe she was onto something. Maybe I _was_ good with kids and I just didn't know it because I never had any experience with them. Generally, kids are pretty innocent and naive and it's hard to _not_ be good with them.

I focused my eyes back on my television screen (although not really watching) and smiled to myself. I couldn't quite place it, place why I was so drawn to Charlie, but whatever it was, I liked it. I liked that I liked her.

I was beginning to doze off on the couch when my doorbell rang. I looked at the clock on my entertainment center and read it as half past nine. _Who would come to my house this late at night?_   I threw the blanket off my lap and headed to the door. Upon opening it, my eyes landed on the gentle face of Charlie.  I grinned and leaned against the door frame, my arms folded over my chest, somewhat blocking the doorway in the process. She met my eyes and reciprocated my smile back to me. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach.

"Hi," she greeted and shifted her weight to one foot, looking at her toes in the meantime.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" I asked teasingly.

"Yeah. But the lights inside your house were still on."

"So?"

"So, you're obviously still awake then."

"And if I hadn't been?" I pushed.

"Are you just going to stand there and interrogate me or are you going to invite me inside?"

I shrugged and moved out of the way, gesturing for her to come inside. "Now was that so hard?" she asked as she passed by. I tried not to stare at her and instead proceeded to close the front door.

"So what's going on?" I asked.

She leaned over the back of the couch and trifled through her purse. "Um, well I was on my way home from work when I remembered that you paid for me at lunch today... again... for the second time."

"...Okay..." I replied, confused by whatever point she was trying to make. "What's it matter?"

"I'm here to pay you back." Charlie pulled out her wallet and started rifling through her bills.

"Charlie, don't worry about it," I said, lightly placing my hand on her arm to stop her. She looked up at me with a frown gracing her lips. "It's not a big deal. I don't mind."

"Harry." The disapproving look she sent me advised me to just let her give me the money, but I pushed anyway.

"Charlie," I mocked but she didn't look amused.

"Why can't I just pay you back?" she whined.

"Because I wanted to take you out. I wanted to pay for you."

"I'm weird about people buying things for me."

"Why?"

"Because it makes me feel awkward and dependent on someone else." Her frown deepened and she shook her head. "I know I don't have a lot of money, but I like paying for my own things. I'm perfectly capable of doing so."

"Oh," I said, eyes wide. "I'm sorry. I never meant to make you feel like that. I'm just used to paying and stuff."

She surprised me with a smile. "It's alright, I'm not upset. I just wasn't expecting you to take me out is all. I didn't know it was a date."

_Daaaaaaaaaate. She called it a date._

She extended a handful of money to me, silently asking me to take it. "If it'll make you feel better..." I trailed off, hesitantly accepting the gesture. Charlie handed me the money and sealed her purse. "Just know in the future that I really, really, _really_ don't mind paying for you."

She laughed. "And just know that I really, really, _really_ appreciate that, but sometimes I prefer to pay for myself." I nodded in understanding.

"So is that all you came for? Just to pay me back?"

"I don't know," she replied sheepishly. "I didn't have anything better to do after work."

"Oh. Okay," I muttered.

We stood in the foyer for another moment as I thought quickly about what to say next.  I wasn't quick on my feet like she was and I was a lot more awkward than she was too and _ugh, why is it so hard to think straight when she's here._

"I'm making tea," I blurted, still a little unsure of where this was going. "Would you like some before you go."

Charlie smiled and I melted a little because I kinda-sorta liked when she smiled.

"Sure."

I walked toward the kitchen and she followed a short ways behind me. I pulled out a chair at the kitchen table for her to sit down while I prepared us each a cup of tea.  "How was your day?" I asked as I brought the beverage over to where she sat.

She took a small sip and released a long sigh. "It was alright."

I took a seat across from her at the table and stirred my tea."Clearly not," I said, smiling. "What happened?"

"Nothing. It was actually fine," Charlie insisted. She pushed her teacup away from her and rested her cheek in her palm. "I'm just tired. all. the freaking. time."

"Maybe that's because you're on your feet for like twelve hours a day every day," I responded, suggesting the obvious answer.

"Probably." She closed her eyes and buried her face into the crook of her arm.

"I'm sorry," I said, sliding down a few seats to rub her back.

"It's okay," she half-smiled, straightening up in her chair and gulping down another couple sips of tea. "This tea is phenomenal by the way," she complimented.

"Thanks," I shrugged and pressed the mug to my lips. The beverage was still hot but cool enough now to sip here and there.

We sat in silence for longer than I would have liked. It was a little awkward but at least I was sitting here with her.

"So."

"So."

A trace of a smile appeared on her lips. "So... I'd better get going. I have work again tomorrow." I watched as she downed the last couple sips of tea from her cup and placed it back on the table.

I shook my head. "Right, right."

"Thanks for the tea. It was lovely." Charlie slid out of her chair and stood up from the table. She leaned in to kiss my right cheek and offer me a small hug, a simple action that shouldn't have made my heart beat nearly as fast as it did. It reminded me of how hard my heart pounded in my chest the night she kissed me.

 _This is your chance to say something_ , I thought. I wanted to speak, but my voice caught in my throat. I was too nervous to say what was really on my mind.

"Maybe we can do something this weekend?" I suggested. That's not what you wanted to say, I mentally scolded.

Charlie chuckled softly under her breath and nodded. "Yeah, that sounds good."

"Okay, well, I'll see you later then, I guess." I stood up just as she was headed out of the kitchen and to the front door. I stopped in the kitchen doorway and leaned against the frame, something I noticed I did a lot.

_Just say something. Say something or you'll regret it._

I watched her small hands fiddle with the lock on the door and then hoist her purse onto her shoulder. "See ya," she said and twisted the handle on the door to open it.

A twinge of courage surged through me at the realization that she was leaving and I couldn't fend off the urge to say something anymore.

"Hey, why did you kiss me that night," I blurted before she stepped outside. Charlie froze and my sudden burst of confidence felt suddenly out of place.

"Why did you kiss me that night, and then turn around and leave?" My voice shook with apprehension. I shifted my weight to my left foot and swallowed hard. "Because I've been thinking about it a lot and it wasn't fair," I said honestly. Charlie turned on her heels to face me and leaned her back against the door, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. "Like— _fuck_ —it was, like, a really good kiss and, like, the more I think about it and the more time that goes by, the more I just kinda feel like you were playing with my emotions. You haven't done or said anything about it since that night and I just don't really know what to think anymore."

Her eyes closed and her head fell back to rest against the door. The look on her face was a mixture of guilt and sadness with a pinch of regret. I didn't know what to make of that.

"You're right," Charlie said finally. "It wasn't fair."

I frowned and took a small step forward. "Then why did you do it? Because if you didn't want to kiss me, then you shouldn't have because here I am, a little upset and a lot confused."

"I'm sorry," she apologized, turning her face to hide the pink in her cheeks. "I really did want to kiss you, but it was an impulsive decision.  I shouldn't have let it get the best of me. I'm sorry."

My heart beat profusely in my chest from her admitting that she did indeed _want_ to kiss me. But my thoughts were still too jumbled.

"So, did you not like it or something and that's why you're apologizing..."

"No!" she said, her face flushing. "No, no. That _certainly_ was not it."

"Then what was it? Because, believe it or not, I wanted to kiss you too, but I held back and you didn't, yet here I am feeling guilty about something that wasn't even my fault." I felt my frustration building.

"It's my fault, Harry. Don't feel guilty. I wasn't thinking. When I kissed you, I just..." she was searching for the right words. "I felt bad because I didn't want to confuse you, so I left."

"What are you talking about?"

"I didn't want to confuse you because I... I don't know. You've been through a lot and I didn't want to come in and make things worse."

"Wow, okay," I scoffed. "I know I'm a fuck-up, but _Christ_ , I'm not some fragile little thing that can't handle a goddamn kiss." 

"Harry, that's not what I'm saying."

"Yes it is," I insisted. "You're saying that you don't think I could have handled my shit if you kissed me because 'I've already been through enough.'"

"That's not what I'm saying!" she pleaded. "You're putting words into my mouth!"

"Then tell me. What _exactly_ are you saying?"

Charlie looked panicked, realizing that this was taking a dramatic turn for the worst. "I didn't want to hurt you because I didn't know how you were feeling emotionally or how you were feeling towards me."

"Well gee, you kissing me and screwing with my head sure helped a lot," I said with biting sarcasm. "I don't need your pity. I'm twenty-four years old. I've isolated myself from people my whole goddamn life. I _really_ don't need you swooping in and acting like some kind of superhero." I turned to walk up the stairs, needing to get away from this situation, from Charlie, everything.  Quite frankly, I was hurt. I felt used and misunderstood, and I realized that Charlie probably thought I was being unreasonable, but honestly, I shouldn't have been surprised. This is what everybody does. They come into my life and act like they care about me, but they don't. And Charlie is no different. How could I be so _stupid?_   You think you know someone, but you don't.  You never do.

"Wait, Harry! You didn't give me time to fully explain myself," she countered, taking a couple steps in my direction.

"What else could you _possibly_ say to me?" I replied cuttingly.

"I- I don't know," she said, trying to grasp her words, but failing.

"Please just leave. I thought you were different, but I should have known better."

"Harry," she tried again, but I continued my stride up the stairs.

"I said 'leave'."

"I'm sorry, Harry. I really didn't mean to make it sound like you can't handle yourse-"

" _Leave_ Charlie. I'm not going to ask you again," I seethed and this time, she listened.

Without another word, Charlie pulled the front door open. I was already upstairs and in my bedroom, slamming the door closed behind me by time I finally heard the front door shut and a car's engine start up outside.

I felt the urge to break something or hurt something—perhaps myself—but I knew good and well that I would regret that terribly in the morning. Joe's sessions were beginning to help me and if I did... _that_...everything would change and not for the better.

I wanted to cry. A lot. For once, I'd put forth a strong effort to keep mine and Charlie's friendship in tact, and here I was, heartbroken after it fell to pieces. I was angry and upset; so, so, _so_ upset.

 _This is what happens_ , I thought to myself as I pulled the comforter down and crawled in between the sheets of my bed. I hadn't bothered to change or shower or do anything for that matter, because I was feeling too many things to care.

_I do this time and time again and still I end up alone. It's a vicious cycle and I can't win. Ever._

It was times like this that made me lose hope. Because it's one thing to be alone, but it's a whole other thing to be lonely.

And I was _damn_ lonely.

 

**_A/N: Could not be more disappointed with this chapter. I'm really sorry if any of you were waiting anxiously for an update because this is shit. It was a pretty big filler, but I'm hoping the next chapter will be better._ **

**_Thank you for being so patient with me. I've been on a lot of trips recently it seems, which made it really hard to find time to write. But thanks for not murdering me._ **

**_Love you guys._ **

**_Cute as a button, every single one of you(:_ **

**_-Mia <3_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Could not be more disappointed with this chapter. I'm really sorry if any of you were waiting anxiously for an update because this is shit. It was a pretty big filler, but I'm hoping the next chapter will be better.
> 
> Thank you for being so patient with me. I've been on a lot of trips recently it seems, which made it really hard to find time to write. But thanks for not murdering me.
> 
> Love you guys.
> 
> Cute as a button, every single one of you(:  
> -Mia<3


	11. Chapter 9

*Charlie's POV*

 

" _YOU DID WHAT?!_ "

"I'M SORRY!"

" _YOU SPENT AN ENTIRE MONTH BEFRIENDING HARRY STYLES, KISSED HIM ON THE FUCKING_ MOUTH _, AND THEN PISSED HIM OFF ENOUGH TO MAKE HIM_ HATE _YOU_?!"

"DON'T YELL AT ME!"

" _OH MY GOD, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?_ "

Meet Vincent Alexander Clark: my very clever, artistic, over-dramatic, long-winded, meticulous, impatient, high-spirited, (don't forget gay and Harry Styles-loving), best friend. He was a blessing and a curse, but was nevertheless like a brother to me.

"Vince, just let me explain," I said in a much calmer voice than before.

Vincent plopped down exasperatedly onto my couch, anxiously running his fingertips through his hair. "Are you sure we are talking about the same guy? THE Harry Styles? Like, the famous singer that almost successfully committed suicide not even a  _month_  ago? My  _angel_?"

I shivered at the reminder that Harry's attempt at a self-induced death was how we met. "Yes. I was his assigned nurse when he was in the hospital's custody."

"Charlie, I just- I can't- what-" He physically could not form words. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Because you've been out of the country on vacation for forever now!"

"You could have called me and told me."

I rejected his complaint immediately, shooting him a doubtful look. "We BOTH know you wouldn't have been able to handle that news over the phone."

"Honey, I can't handle this news right  _now_."

"Ugh, Vince." I collapsed on the sofa opposite him, our legs tangling instantly into a mess in between us. My head fell back onto the arm rest and I groaned. I watched out of the corner of my eye Sir Paw McCartney prance over to Vince's body sprawled out on the other side, parallel to mine. He leant down and easily scooped up my kitten with one hand, laying him on his back in the crook of his arm to scratch softly at his furry belly.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to over-react like that. It's just..."

I rolled my eyes. "I understand. I know you're, like, madly in love with him and you're extremely disappointed in me for blowing it with him..."

He shook his head. "I'm not disappointed. And don't worry about me, okay? I know that he's not exactly into men. The only hopes I have of ever dating him are in my wildest dreams. But this means you  _have_  to figure out how to make him not hate you again and then proceed to date him FOR me."

I put my face in my hands hopelessly. "You don't understand, Vince. I'm  _never_  going to date him; I don't even think we'll be friends again. I screwed up so badly. He said, and I quote, 'I  _really (_ emphasis on really) don't need you. I thought I did, but it's clear to me now that I don't.'" I sighed and shoved a pillow over my face and incoherently mumbled through the obstruction of plush cushion, "What do I do to fix this mess? You're the most intelligent person I know, help me out here."

"All of this happened last night?"

"Yes. And I had to spend all of today replaying it in my head, because,  _damn it, it was all my fault."_ I dragged my fingers down my face in frustration and mentally cursed at myself.

He seriously considered the question at hand. He wiggled his toes in an absent-minded rhythm on my thigh as he thought. I sat, unsettled, and waited. I tried to conjure something up myself, but I failed... miserably. My kitty swiped at Vince's hand each time his fingers dove down to playfully poke at Sir Paw's plump belly.

After a terribly long delay and minutes of just sitting in absolute silence, Vincent said, "I might have just thought up a potential plan...," and he smiled a smile of great confidence and mischief.

"Anything beats what I have which is nothing. Absolutely NOTHING."

"Don't worry. I know how you need my brilliant mastermind in times like these," he smirked and I had to bite my tongue to keep from replying with a sarcastic remark.

Vince explained his idea to me. We tweaked and worked out the additional details afterwards, all of it finally formulating into a perfectly well-crafted plan. And boy, did we stay up late that insane Tuesday night. I couldn't complain, though because it was like taking a breath of fresh air to have a big fat dose of Vincent Clark in my house. I was just now realizing how much I'd missed him... and his pretty little mind.

 

. . .

 

"Do you think it'll work?" I asked. I was leaning forward anxiously in my seat while nervously tapping my fingernails against his dashboard

"I sure as hell hope so. If your friendship (and might I add, possible re-la-tion-ship) with Harry Styles ends, I will take a  _hostage_. It has to work. This is an opportunity you can't pass up," Vince explained.

"You do know I'm trying to solve this problem with him because I actually want to make it up to him and be friends again. I'm not doing it because he is 'THE HARRY STYLES' and I just wanna get in his pants."

"I wanna get in his pants."

" _Vincent_."

He laughed at himself and then stopped long enough to put on a serious face. "Fine, yes. I do know that. You've explained it to me. And I DO want you to fix things with him for all the right reasons, because in all honesty, it sounds like things were perfectly fine before all of this."

"Everything was fine! And then I opened my big mouth, and now he hates me, so..."

"Hopefully not for long," he said, leaning over to bump my shoulder. He made a right turn into a more-or-less familiar neighborhood.

I rested my chin in my palm and stared out the window at the houses passing by. "Yeah, hopefully."

 

. . .

 

*Harry's POV*

"I'm telling you, it's over. It's done."

Mr. Ransick tapped his pen thoughtfully against his desk and crossed his right leg over left, clearly not satisfied with my answer. "Are you not going to try to salvage the relationship whatsoever?"

I gritted my teeth. "Do you not understand what I'm telling you? I. Broke. It. Off. Because it wasn't going to work out... at all."

"You don't think this whole ordeal is solvable?" he asked.

"You think it is?"

"I think it can be fixed if you attempt to fix it."

I sighed and kicked my feet out in front of me, resting my head back on the vinyl couch cushion. "Okay, 'Mr. Rogers', let me take a second to explain this to you again. I'm not the cause of this, therefore, I'm not trying anything. She can try if she wants to, but I seriously doubt I'm going to change my mind."

"Harry, a friendship is a two sided thing. You can't expect her to do all the work."

I scoffed and crossed my arms over my chest. "Trust me, I know how 'friendship' works. I put my best foot forward and then the other person doesn't attempt for shit and then  _I'm_  the one that gets left hanging. This is nothing new to me. Don't lecture me on stuff I already know."

"I'm not talking about what happened when everything between you and her fell apart, I'm talking about what you have to do to mend it. One person can't fix this; you both have to make an effort here."

"But I'm done making an effort!" I shouted frustratedly, throwing my hands up and then letting them collapse back at my sides. "I don't have anything left to give! Relationships shouldn't be this hard. So far in my life I haven't met anybody who is willing to reciprocate my effort. So I'm done."

"You're done?"

"Yes."

"For ever? You're never going to try this ever again?" I nodded and Mr. Ransick disagreed by shaking his head. "I doubt that. You're not a quitter."

I shrugged. "Maybe I am. Maybe I have a limit and I've finally hit it."

"No. Something tells me things between you and Charlie are not over, whether you like it or not."

I closed my eyes. "It's easier to just go through life alone without anyone dragging you down with them."

"And how has that worked for you so far, Harry? It sure gets lonely after a while, doesn't it?"

I didn't answer him.

 

. . .

 

I drove home in silence, my head reeling, but not exactly forming complete thoughts. Deep down I knew that Mr. Ransick calling my bluff about never putting forth effort ever again was technically right, but I also knew that I was far too stubborn to admit that, especially to him. But on the other hand, when you've been through half the shit I've been through, you begin not caring about what's happening to you or what's happening around you, hence my extremely positive attitude towards life (note my obvious sarcasm). If I described myself in a single word, 'desolate' would do more than suffice. I wasn't sure there was much left of me at all, this whole 'Charlie thing', just a healthy reminder of it.

Something about how the clouds today shielded the sun from blanketing the city in warmth and sunlight made me want to hurry home only to curl up in a tight ball underneath my comforter and block out the rest of the world. Yes. That sounded delightful.

 _Just like old times_.

I stopped first at a gas station to refill my car's gas tank. I was beginning to run low, so I reluctantly made a trip to a local station. Out of habit, I pulled a beanie on over my head and a pair of sunglasses over my eyes before stepping out of the car and swiping my credit card at the pump. I leaned my back idly against my front bumper as I waited and shoved my hands in my pockets.

My phone buzzed and I pulled it from my pocket to see a text message from  _Charlie Hopkins_  sitting patiently on my lock screen. A lump formed in my throat as I stared at it just  _sitting_  there.

_Didn't I make it clear I was done with her? I thought after saying "I don't need you" and telling her three times to leave my house it would be pretty obvious I didn't want anything to do with her._

The mere presence of the message was too tempting to not read, so I opened it.

 

To: Harry

From: Charlie

Are you home??

 

"What?" I accidentally said aloud. I looked around to make sure nobody heard my embarrassing outburst and I felt my face heat. I didn't respond because I didn't want to add fuel to the flames and make it sound like I was okay now because I really wasn't okay.

Not even a moment later, I received another text from her.

 

To: Harry

From: Charlie

Never mind, your car is gone.

 

_SHE WAS AT MY HOUSE????!!!!_

My legs weakened a bit at the knees. I wanted sooo badly to reply, but  _no_ , I couldn't.

Then, came another.

 

To: Harry

From: Charlie

Just check your porch when you get home(:

 

The first thought that crossed my mind was,  _She did_  not _just send me a mother-fucking smiley face_. But she  _had_  sent me a mother-fucking smiley face.

The second thought that crossed my mind was,  _what the hell is she doing at my house?_

The third thought that crossed my mind was,  _doesn't this girl have to work today?_

And finally, the  _last_  thing that crossed my mind was,  _what could possibly be on my front porch?_

Then, the gas pump clicked and I snapped back to the present. I pulled the pump out of my car and set it back into its place and closed the gas tank and got back in my car and started driving away from the gas station and towards my house that was literally only minutes from this place. Of course, London traffic always served as a wonder whenever you needed to be somewhere. And yes, it was literally Wednesday at fricking noontime.

After miraculously managing to maneuver through twenty minutes of traffic, I finally made it into my neighborhood and then to my house. I parked my car in the garage, but I hung up my keys in the kitchen when I came inside and scurried my way into the foyer. I unlocked the front door and pulled it open, not knowing what to expect whatsoever.

My eyes casted downward as I held it wide open, a bit of surprise and (I'm not gonna lie) confusion being my initial reaction.

A bouquet of a dozen of the brightest bunch of orange flowers I'd ever seen in my life laid delicately on my doorstep beside a neatly organized, and undeniably quaint basket of Kit Kat and Twix candy bars. A single folded note sat between the two. I reluctantly picked up the gifts, unsure of why they were here, and walked them inside. I placed them on the coffee table as I plopped down onto the sofa.

_If this is some sort of 'gift of forgiveness' I'm going to flip a car._

I pulled open the handwritten note first and scanned over the contents. I recognized the curly lettering and  _i's_  dotted with circles.

 

_Harry Edward Styles,_

_You are in no way entitled to forgive me. For anything. I was the cause of this mess. Please accept these gifts as a formal apology for what happened because I am truly sorry for any/all of the hurt I have potentially caused. Now, if I may, allow me to explain why I have settled upon these gifts._

_Everybody loves chocolate, which serves the purpose of the Kit Kats and Twix. However, these flowers reminded me entirely too much of your bright and beautiful, vibrant little self and it seemed almost unfair to not get them for you as they are a symbol of who you are. And may I remind you that orange is also your favorite color (yes, I still remember you telling me that)._

_Now, you may be thinking, "how will my masculinity ever cope with such a feminine donation," but I am here to assure you I am in no way trying to tarnish your manliness; in fact, dismiss the patriarchal paradigm that allegedly implies that 'flowers are for girls' because these are not 'flowers for girls', these are flowers for YOU._

_Men deserve beautiful things too. Especially you, Harry. You deserve so much more than what you get._

_Sincerely, an eternally remorseful,_

_-Charlie xx_

 

Once I finished reading the letter, I was rendered speechless. Literally. I couldn't speak, like, at all. I just glimpsed dumbly back and forth between the note and her peace offerings, all three so genuine and thoughtful, almost as if she actually- I don't know-  _cared_. It annoyingly warmed my heart because, on one hand, it was extremely kind of her to go though such trouble for me, but on the other hand,  _I was sooooo not over what happened_. (Blame my stubborn conscience, not me).

"Wow," I said to no one but myself. "Thanks, I guess."

I took the flowers out of their plastic wrapping and placed them in water to keep them alive and then kicked back on the couch for the rest of the day, occasionally picking through the chocolate candies.

 

. . .

 

The rest of the week continued fairly normally; for me that meant lots of TV time, Netflix, napping, and long walks around my neighborhood. I loved walks, believe it or not. Walks were great for clearing your head and and making you forget how disappointing your life was at times.

So that Thursday, I went for a  _long_ -ass walk. I actually hadn't intended to, but I'd been feeling more stressed than usual and I ended up losing track of time and walking for, like, two hours. And maybe if I hadn't spent that much time away from home, I would have run into Charlie at my house. I say that because in the midst of my leisurely stroll, the music blaring in my ears faltered for a second as my text tone rang through the small speakers. I shimmied my phone out of my athletic shorts pocket and swiped my thumb across the screen without really paying attention. My eyes widened as the message opened and it was from Charlie.

 

To: Harry

From: Charlie

Don't look now, but I think there's something on your front porch...

 

_WHAT???_

_I THOUGHT YESTERDAY'S GIFT WAS, LIKE, A ONE-TIME THING._

I glanced around at my surroundings to figure out where in the heck I was, and then I put my head phones back in and started jogging home. The trip back to my house was a lot more exhausting than the languid trip away, but I made it home at twelve thirty-two.

When my porch came into view, I noticed a sizably small red box sitting upon my doorstep. Under further observation I realized it was not just a small red box, it was a small red cooler.

_What the heck is this girl up to..._

I jogged up my front steps, grabbed the cooler (which was shockingly heavy), and unlocked my front door. It wasn't until the air conditioning hit my face that I became aware of how hot I was and my sweatiness.

I lugged the cooler into the kitchen and set it on top of my table. Before I officially opened it, I peeled the note taped to the lid off and skimmed over it.

 

_Harry Edward Styles,_

_Prepare yourself for THE most delectable food concoction you have ever experienced. It will have even you shitting your skinny little pants._

_Sincerely,_

_-Charlie xx_

 

 _Oh, lord,_ I thought.

I braced myself for some kind of bizarre food combination, but was relieved (and even kind of humored) by the contents of the cooler: Ben & Jerry's chocolate ice cream, a cluster of eight bananas, a can of whipped cream, Hershey's chocolate syrup, a jar of cherries, a box of chocolate graham crackers, an ice cream bowl, an ice cream scooper, and an extremely cliché ice cream-shaped spoon.

 

_Jesus, Charlie._

I pulled out each item separately and set them on the table in the process. I noticed another note at the bottom of the cooler, so I sat down in a chair and read it to myself.

 

_Harry Edward Styles,_

_Okay, so I admit, it's nothing WILD, but your favorite food is bananas and, once again, everybody likes chocolate, so enjoy:P_

**_My Instructions_ ** _(that I definitely did not plagiarizing from some random dessert website off the internet):_

**_Step 1:_ ** _Fill any designated ice cream bowl with 3 scoops of (your favorite!) ice cream._

**_Step 2:_ ** _Peel a banana (YUCK, BANANAS!) and add to bowl with ice cream. Tip: emulate the look of a banana split._

**_Step 3:_ ** _Drizzle Hershey's chocolate syrup over contents in bowl._

**_Step 4:_ ** _Squirt a generous amount of whipped cream (chocolate or regular) on top of the already added ingredients._

**_Step 5:_ ** _Crush graham crackers in separate bowl and sprinkle overtop ice cream._

**_Step 6_ ** _: Top the scrumptious snack off with a cherry and proceed to eat your delicious treat!_

_-Charlie xx_

 

I shook my head, a hint of a grin spreading on my face as I began organizing the items into the refrigerator and pantry.

_Oh, Charlie, you've outdone yourself this time._

Later that night, I pulled all of the ingredients back out and followed the instructions she gave me to create possibly the greatest, most intense ice cream sundae I'd ever eaten in my entire life.

 

. . .

 

I still hadn't spoken to Charlie. I couldn't decide whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. I mean, she had really hooked me up these past two days, which was extremely charitable of her, but something about the falling out we had really just...  _got_  to me. Like, I thought she was going to be different than everybody else and treat me like I wasn't some forlorn baby bird with a broken wing. I could take care of myself. I could fend for myself. I could  _think_  for myself. I sure as hell didn't need somebody doing that for me.

It'd be an understatement to say I was conflicted about it all. But I still had a lot of time to consider what I wanted to do about this- that is- if I wanted to do anything at all.

I pondered this indecision for a long time in the shower that night. I stood under the scalding hot water pondering life and it's entirety, stalling because I didn't quite want to get out yet.

Charlie hadn't stopped by this afternoon, which almost didn't upset me, but it kind of did... to some degree.

After an honest-to-God forty-five minute shower, I shut off the water as it grew inevitably colder and stepped out to dry off. It was only when I was headed down the steps of my house that I heard my phone go off on the countertop in the kitchen.

 _There's no way that can be Charlie,_  I thought to myself, but then again, who else texted me besides her? And sure enough, it was her. I paced into the kitchen, unplugged my phone from the wall and turned it on to see a message waiting to be opened from  _Charlie Hopkins_.

My heart quickened in my chest. I'm not quite clear on why, but I sure as heck was not expecting to hear from her, especially not at this hour. I glanced at the clock. 9:23.

I inhaled a short breath and exhaled it as I clicked on the message.

 

To: Harry

From: Charlie

I'm no psychic, but I'm sensing that there may be something sitting outside on your porch again...

 

I shook my head and booked it outside to see what was waiting for me this time. I'd half expected to see her sitting there herself, but was a bit disappointed when that expectation wasn't met. Instead, a neatly wrapped, box-shaped package sat, waiting for me to retrieve it.

I brought it into my living room and kneeled at the coffee table to open it. Inside was a square popcorn bucket, the typical red and white striped ones that you would associate with movie theaters. Inside the bucket was an unopened package of microwave popcorn and a movie. I picked it up and read the front cover:  _Silver Linings Playbook_. I opened the case and out came a thin slip of paper, surely a note from Charlie herself. I plucked the letter from my lap and began reading what was written on the inside.

 

_Harry Edward Styles,_

_So, this is my last little gift to you. I'm just going to assume you received the last two because both times I've come back, it's been gone... hopefully that doesn't mean somebody else stole them!_

_Anyway, this is MY favorite movie, but something about it tells me you'd like it as well. I'm crossing my fingers and toes that you haven't seen it yet, otherwise this does seem a little pointless. I have conjured up a list of reasons why you should watch Silver Linings Playbook._

**_Reasons You Should Watch SLP:_ **

**_1._ ** _Bradley Cooper is in it and he is HOT._

**_2._ ** _Jennifer Lawrence is in it and she is HOT._

**_3._ ** _Great plot, great acting, and it'll crack your shit UP._

**_4._ ** _And last but not least, 'Excelsior' is an overarching theme! How exciting?!_

_Anywhooo, this is actually MY movie, which means I'm going to need it back at some point... preferably soon... like, perhaps tomorrow or Sunday... where maybe we could get together like we were talking about doing on Monday... and then you could also give me my movie back... but that's obviously up to you because I'd understand 100% if you didn't want to see me..._

_Sincerely,_

_-Charlie xx_

 

It shouldn't have been my first thought, but for some reason, all I could think was,  _why does she keep calling me 'Harry Edward Styles' in each of these little notes?_

Regardless _,_ I did as the note said, keeping in mind that it was still pretty early as I strolled into the kitchen to microwave popcorn. When it finished popping two minutes and ten seconds later, I poured the snack out of the package and into the popcorn bowl and then put the movie into the DVD player to watch.

Before I pressed play, I made a silent agreement with myself that if I ended up liking the movie (as much as Charlie insisted I would), I would make a fair effort to talk to her again, but if I didn't, I would hold off for longer.

And when the film ended, I knew I was screwed because I didn't like it; I LOVED IT. All could think was,  _fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. How am I even going to go about talking to her now?_

 

. . .

 

To: Charlie

From: Harry

I want to see you this weekend...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I apologize for the fairly short chapter, but I do hope it was better than the last one/: I feel a bit better about this one!
> 
> Anyway, thank you for all of your guys' support on this story. I honestly can't thank you enough. I had @dazzledpayne DM me on Thursday telling me how much she liked this story, so I think I'd like to dedicate this chapter to her(: Thanks babeee
> 
> My Twitter is @KissesFromZiall if anybody wants to follow and/or talk to me! I love hearing from you guys(:
> 
> By the way, I thought I'd say that the inspiration for this story came from a bunch of different places; some of them were original ideas, but others were based off of the movie Silver Linings Playbook and the british TV show My Mad Fat Diary (both of which I EXTREMELY recommend watching!)
> 
> Don't forget to comment and vote on my chapters if you like them!!
> 
> Cute as a button, every single one of you(:
> 
> -Mia<3


	12. Chapter 10

*Charlie's POV*

 

Maybe it was the way he was sitting there in front of me with his legs crossed one over the other, his stature slightly hunched making him seem even more unconfident than usual, his hands fumbling nervously in his lap, his green irises that had been avoiding mine from the moment he'd opened the door for me, his straight, white teeth that chewed harshly on the inside of his cheek. Something about this whole encounter left me worrying that this might actually be the last time I saw him (on his request, not mine). Something seemed off and I found my stomach quickly becoming a knot of twists and turns, but something in me also clung to the small hope that things might just turn out okay. I knew deep down that he was too much of a good soul to let go of at this point. He was a friend I'd severely let down, even after he'd confessed that he didn't have anyone else in his life to look to. It was my fault entirely that we were in this mess and I was far from denying it.

I sat across from him, surrounded by the deafening silence between us. I deliberated what I should say to him. I needed to do something to fix this before it lead to the demise of our friendship, but I didn't  _know_  what to say. 'Sorry' was pretty meaningless at this point so I knew not to start with that predictable form of apology. But I had to say  _something_  because it was obvious he wasn't going to kick off this grand rendezvous.

I cleared my throat and swallowed uneasily, willing myself to conjure up something to start with. Without a second thought, I impulsively said the very first thing that came to my head.

"I-I like your shirt," I stumbled awkwardly.

Harry finally raised his eyes to meet mine, a single eyebrow arched in confusion. "What?"

 _YOU'RE A FUCKING IDIOT, YOU KNOW THAT?_ I mentally screamed at myself.

I looked down at my lap and shifted uncomfortably in my seat, resembling an antsy child that's been forced to sit at the dinner table until everyone has finished eating. "Um, I like your shirt," I repeated.

He glimpsed down at his chest and tugged loosely at the fabric of his top. It really was not _that_  impressive of a shirt. It was just a simple black tee, but I honestly just couldn't think of anything else to say at the time.

"Oh, uh, thanks?" he replied, although it sounded more like a question than anything else.

"Yeah. Um, is it new?"  _STOP TALKING. JUST STOP TALKING. YOU ARE AN EMBARRASSMENT TO MANKIND._

"No, not really."

I shook my head. "Oh my, God. I really didn't mean to say that."

"I figured," he said. I drew my eyes up timidly and met his and he actually offered me an empathetic smile.

I buried my face in my arms and groaned a long-winded groan. "God, I don't know what I'm doing. I'm just so sorry, Harry. I'm so, so, so, so,  _so_  fricking sorry. Like, I can't even express it. I'm just really, fricking sorry for all of this. I'm a terrible friend who doesn't deserve your kindess or your aquaintenceship because I have failed you immensely."

I had half expected him to tell me that I  _was_  an awful friend and that I  _was_  completely undeserving of his amity, but I certainly had not expected him to respond with what he did.

"I'm sorry, too."

I sprung upright in my chair and gaped at him, obviously not fully comprehending his words. "WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? WHAT COULD YOU POSSIBLY BE SORRY FOR?"

He looked a little defensive toward my outburst but he didn't hesitate to reply just as audibly powerful as me. "I DON'T KNOW. LOOKING BACK, I'M KINDA THINKING THAT MAYBE I OVERREACTED. WHY ARE YOU YELLING AT ME?"

"I'M NOT YELLING."

"YES YOU ARE."

I took a breath to calm myself. "Sorry, sorry. But you don't have to say  _you're_  sorry. I was a bitch; a crazy, raging bitch. It's not my business what you do in your personal life, but I got way too caught up in it anyway. You are your own person and you can think for yourself."

He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing his once-styled hair backward on his forehead. "You weren't a bitch, Charlie, don't say that. And I know you're sorry. I got all of your peace offerings."

I covered my face with my hands, completely abashed. "Oh, great. How'd you like that?"

He chuckled and leaned across the table to pull my hands away from my face, making me blush a bit at the physical contact. "I liked it a lot," he told me genuinely. "And don't be all embarrassed because I loved them, okay? They were really thoughtful."

Despite his compliments, I still felt the need to bury my face in my shoulder. "I just wanted you to know that I really do care about you. I was never dishonest about that. You're my friend."

"I know, I know," he said, bowing his head to face the table again. "And I'm sorry I said that you didn't care. I just..." He looked away and fumbled with his fingertips. "I've had too many experiences with people who acted like they cared about me, then come to find out they actually didn't give a shit about me. It's just so fucking hard to tell the difference between what's real or fake anymore. And I'm sorry. I know that now."

I smiled and set my palm over the back of his hand. "It's alright. I was never even mad at you. I was just mad at myself."

"Well it's okay now," he said, offering me a reassuring smile. "I forgive you and you forgive me and that's all that matters, so let's just leave it at that and pretend it didn't happen, alright? Because I know I said I didn't need you, but that's a lie because I  _do_  need somebody like you. You helped me a lot when I was at the hospital that terrible week, and then when we went to the park that one day and read books for what, like, eight fucking hours or something, I had so much fun. It was casual and effortless and just so out of the ordinary for me. And then, Jesus Christ," he mumbled, throwing his hands up in the air. "You helped me through a mother fucking  _panic attack_  last weekend. I can't believe I actually thought you didn't care.  _Ugh_ , I'm so sorry."

"Hey," I scolded. "Enough with all the apologizing. You said it yourself. It's over. It's done. I forgive you and you forgive me. Let's just leave it at that." I grinned. "Okay?"

A smile tugged at his lips as he grasped my hand in his and squeezed a hint of reassurance into my fingertips. "Okay."

I breathed a heavy sigh and got to my feet a moment later. "You have to hug me now. I'm pretty sure I aged ten years in the past five days."

He pushed his chair out from the table and laughed as he stood. "Why were you so stressed out?" he asked me, but I ignored him and just wrapped my arms around him and pulled him close to me for the first time in  _days_  and it felt so good knowing I had him back. His arms surrounded me and tugged me close to him as well. His chin resting lightly on my shoulder.

"Because," I started, shoving my face in his chest. "I thought you were inviting me over to tell me that you never wanted to see me again. I was ready to crumble to pieces."

He wrapped his arms tighter around me and hummed in thought. "No, I don't think I'd do that," he determined. "I think I would just cut off all ties with you until you figured it out for yourself."

"Hey!" I whined, puckering my bottom lip and pulling away from him so we were face to face.

"I'm kidding!" he said, laughing, and I couldn't help but notice how prominent his dimples were when he truly smiled. I made it a mission to make him smile an authentic, Harry Styles smile every single day for as long as I possibly could because he deserved to smile like that  _every singe day,_  dammit.

"You  _better_  be kidding," I said as I rolled my eyes and pulled him back into an embrace, basking in the feeling of him against me; his hot skin, toned body, and tight, enveloping hug was all I needed to feel better about this whole mishaps. Everything about him felt natural to me and I didn't want to ever let go of this boy because I knew that he was something special and this someone special deserved to never be overlooked again.

 

. . .

 

Harry and I sat on opposite sides of his big leather couch, each of us holding a homemade cup of steaming hot tea. He was an expert at making tea, I swear. I'd never had a better batch of tea than his before.

I sat with my back pressed against the armrest and my legs sprawled out in front of me on the sofa. Harry was scrolling through his phone and I was pretending not to stare at him, but  _it was so hard not to._  He was just so good-looking sometimes that I couldn't not admire his beauty. It would be a crime not to. His face was probably articulated by the Gods themselves; his jawline was sharp and defined and I longed to trace my fingertips along the edges; his lips were the fullest, softest, pinkest lips I'd ever seen; his eyes were such a famous Harry Styles feature that you couldn't  _not_  notice them. He was my guilty pleasure. I loved his perfectly flawlessly face and his (sometimes) awkward personality (but that's okay because I'm a little awkward sometimes too), and his deep voice and how he pronounced his words slowly and delicately, and WOW, I LOVED SO MANY THING ABOUT HIM. IT WAS ALMOST PAINFUL TO JUST BE SITTING HERE WITH HIM WHEN I-

"So I got my Twitter account back," he said, interrupting my thoughts. I blinked dumbly until I realized that he was talking to me. "I haven't been on since before the incident."

I sipped my tea and slid down lower on the couch. "Did you?" I asked. "How's that going?"

He was silent for a long time as he stared down at his screen. I almost thought he hadn't heard me so I was abput ready to repeat my question.

"I'm a terrible person," he mumbled quietly.

"What? No you're not." I was almost offended.

"Yes I am," he insisted, looking up at me. "I absolutely _ruined_  people. My fans are devastated about the accident. They are never going to forgive me for what I tried to do."

I pushed myself up into a sitting position and said, "Yes they will forgive you. They'll understand that you were in a really vulnerable place."

"And what if they don't?"

"Then they weren't good fans to begin with," I tried to assure him. "If they truly love you they'll be here for you regardless of what happens. I'm sure all they want is for you to be safe and happy."

"But how do I even go about explaining what happened?" His eyes were cast down at the phone in his hand.

"You don't have to tell them the details. That's none of their business. That's stuff you can keep to yourself. All you have to say is you were in a bad place for a while, but it's okay because you're fine now."

"I'm  _not_  fine, though. It's not just like I can just flip a switch from being a suicidal flight-risk to being a happy-go-lucky person. You don't just forget. It's not that easy."

"Then tell them that you're _getting_  better, because it's not a lie. You really  _are_  getting better. And I'm sure that whatever you tell them, they will send you lots of love in return. I'm sure they're just worried about you. Maybe you can talk to them. Have you done that yet?" He shook his head no. "You should. I'm sure it'll make you and them feel better. I'm positive they still love you."

"I sure hope so," he said and took a long sip of his tea.

 

. . .

 

It couldn't have been a more perfect evening; the deep blue sky was gradually descending into various hues of orange and yellow as the sun set for the day; just a hint of stars were beginning to appear in the sky along with the crescent moon that basked proudly in its own, bright glory. I even appreciate the small breeze that chilled my nose and cheeks and caused them to become bright pink because without it, I wouldn't have been using one of Harry's jackets to keep myself warm. He'd handed it to me before we ventured outside. It was obviously too big for me, but the sleeves were long enough to grasp in my hands so my fingers didn't freeze during our stroll. I walked closely beside him, our arms occasionally bumping from our proximity, but neither of us seemingly minded it.

"So where are we going?" I finally asked Harry as we made our way down the winding streets of his neighborhood. I peered into the distance where some of the houses on the street created a gap where a trace of a small lake, equip with a fountain in the center and lights around the edge was. The community was far larger than I'd expected it to be, now that I was seeing it in its entirety for the first time. Before, I'd only been down two or three of the streets to get to Harry's house. I'd never made it an objective to explore further into the suburb.

"In the middle of the complex there's this playground for the little kids who live here," he explained. "It's only a little ways down."

I chuckled under my breath and adjusted the jacket tighter around myself. "And you just got this sudden urge at, what..." I glimpsed down at my phone to check the the time. "...eight o'clock to release your inner juvenile-self at a children's playground?"

He smiled a little, but he shrugged nonchalantly. "I pass by it all the time when I go out for walks and, I don't know... it sorta reminds me of this playground that I used to go to when I was a kid, you know?" I looked up at him, and caught a glimpse of nostalgia on his face.

"Yeah. I get it," I said and looked down at my feet, kicking a small pebble somewhere off to the side of the road. "And speaking of childhood and reminiscence, I wanna know more about you."

"Like I've said to you before, I am  _deeply_  uninteresting. I have nothing to tell you that you would want to know."

"Well maybe I would want to know," I insisted. "Try me."

"Okay... what do you wanna know?"

I hummed sightly. "I don't know. Tell me... hm. Tell me things people wouldn't normally think are important. Like, tell me about your first job or what your hobbies were as a kid or who you looked up to. Just... tell me things."

I saw ahead of us that we were approaching the so-called 'park' Harry had mentioned earlier. It was cute and quaint and void of children, which was good because that meant Harry and I could spend some quality time alone without rowdy kids running around everywhere.

We walked down a spiraling path that lead from the street to the mulched play area.

"Okay," he said, in response to my previous request. "I'm sure I can think up some stuff. But only if you tell me things in return."

"Yeah, of course."

Harry lead me all the way across the playground, past the jungle gym, the slides, and the monkey bars to the swing set that sat along the far edge of the playground. He plopped down on one of the swings in the middle of the set and kicked his feet back and forth, patting the swing on his left for me to sit beside him. I smiled and obliged.

"So what is it you wanna know?" He pushed himself back as far as he possibly could and then kicked his feet off the ground. Only a second later his whole self swung forward past me.

"Start with your hobbies," I advised him.

He drew in a long breath and released it slowly, coming to an almost-stop beside me. "Alright. Well, if I can remember correctly, my most serious hobby as a kid was making music. It pretty much always has been. And a lot of it started in high school because I had probably the greatest music teacher _ever_. She was so passionate about what she did and she loved her job. I've always been fascinated watching people play instruments and I always wanted to learn how to play one, so one day after school I stopped by the music room and asked my teacher if she would be willing to help me learn to play the piano because 1) it was my favorite instrument, 2) I was serious about learning to play, 3) I never had anywhere to be after school and 4) I didn't have a piano at home and school was the only place I knew of that conveniently had one. She was  _estatic_  when I came to her for help, so she took forty-five minutes out of her day every day after school to teach me how to play. I got the hang of it really quickly and since then, I've loved music through and through.

"After a few months of teaching me and seeing that I'd figured it out and was committed, she taught me to play guitar too. It didn't come as easily to me, but I was determined to learn because she was an incredible teacher and I would do anything upon _anything_  to not have to go home so soon."

"Why didn't you want to go home?" I asked him.

He sighed and continued kicking his legs back and forth to swing at a slow, steady pace. His reply was short and sufficient: "Home was hell."

"Oh."

"Yeah. But it's whatever. Anyway, one of the first things I ever bought with my own money was a guitar. It took a couple of paychecks from my first job to actually be able to afford a good one, but I saved up all I could. It was one of the biggest achievements in my life at the time, being able to pay for such a big thing on my own. And let me just tell you I loved that thing to  _pieces_. I would lay in my room with the door shut for hours and learn to play new music almost every night. I still kept up lessons with my music teacher, but she helped me more on piano than guitar since I could practice that on my own any time I wanted to. I think that without her, I never would have wanted to pursue music as a career."

I toed at the disturbed dirt and mulch underneath the swing and grinned to myself. "You should play something for me sometime."

"Maybe," he shrugged. "I haven't played in a while. I haven't been motivated to do  _anything_  in a while."

"Yeah, I know," I said quietly and furrowed my eyebrows.

"But maybe I will... for you," he added. "Who knows?"

"Okay," I blushed and I couldn't help thinking about how cool it would be to have him play something for me, just for me. But then I thought I was being ridiculous, so changed the subject. "So what was your first job then? Sounds to me like you were raking in the cash."

He chuckled. "I kind of did. I got my first real job singing at a bar on the edge of town. It wasn't exactly legal, but the owner kept it on the down-low because I was his little money-maker."

"How did you manage that one?" I inquired, slightly amused.

"Well, I had connections. I had a friend who's dad had a friend that owned the bar and that friend and I used to go there all the time to hang out and sometimes help in the back. Every Tuesday and Friday the owner would have live music for entertainment at the bar. We were still a few years shy of eighteen, but he still sometimes slipped us a drink or two because we helped him out."

"Nice."

"I know, right? So one night while my friend and I were there to help out, the owner came into the back, freaking out about how the act for the night had cancelled last minute and how there wasn't anyone to perform. So I told him that I sang sometimes and he asked me if I was any good and I told him, 'I don't know, maybe. I've never sang in front of people before, but I'm willing to if you pay me.'

He accepted my offer in a heartbeat and pulled me out of the back and onto the stage right then and there. He set up a chair for me and handed me the microphone and said, 'Go to town," and just left me up there to sing in front of all these people I didn't know. I still remember being nervous at first when I introduced myself, but I just started singing one of my favorite songs at the time and... I don't know... they liked it, I guess.

"From there the owner hired me to play one or two times a week. People would come in to watch me and they would even give me tips in addition to the paycheck the owner was giving me at the end of the night. The money just sort of piled up. And once I bought my guitar," he paused for a second and I glanced over to see him smiling to himself, "I was on top of the  _world_. I started writing my own music and working on my stage presence. For once in my life, I felt like I was doing something I was proud of. I was able to escape from my real life for a few hours a night when I was there and, to this day, it's still one of the best times of my life."

I beamed at him because he seemed so genuinely happy to be talking about this, to be talking about himself so highly. It was so different to see him embracing self-appreciation instead of self-distaste for once. I wanted him to feel this good about himself all the time.

"That sounds incredible," I told him honestly. "You were sorta like a celebrity then, too."

"A little bit," he concurred. "But it was much different. It was a lot easier then than it is now."

"Well what did your family think of all that? Didn't they come to see you perform or anything?"

" _Hell_  no," he said incredulously. "I didn't even tell them that I did it."

"Why not?"

"You obviously don't know what my family is like."

I was a little taken back. "Well, no. You've never said much about them."

"This is all you need to know. 'Home' for me, was  _not_  where the heart is. My dad was a selfish bastard that left us all when I was just barely six years old and my sister was eight. He was a deadbeat and he didn't give a shit about us from the start. My mom had to do all the work when we were growing up, but when we both got old enough to do things on our own, even  _she_  gave up on us. She was an absolutely terrible mother. Yeah, she worked two jobs, a night job and a day job, but she spent everything she earned on drugs and alcohol and cigarettes and shit. None of it was good for her or for us. Sometimes she didn't even come home at night. My sister and I just had to fend for ourselves most of the time."

"What about your sister? How bad was she?"

He groaned loudly and dragged his fingers down his face, pushing himself backwards slightly on the swing

"Gemma? She was a self-righteous bitch. She always acted like she was better than me and she was always sneaking out and going places with her friends and 'boyfriend of the hour' as I called them. She was sometimes just as bad ad my mom. She didn't listen to me when I told her she was going to end up getting hurt if she kept acting like she did, but she just brushed me aside and told me to 'fuck off' because, apparently, we were 'never going to amount to anything anyway.'"

"Jesus," I whispered under my breath. "When was the last time you saw her?"

"I moved out of the house at seventeen because I physically, mentally, and emotionally could not handle living their anymore, so I packed as much shit as I could carry with me and left that hellhole. I haven't seen her or anyone since."

"Are you kidding?" I asked, exasperatedly. "You haven't seen her in... seven years?" He shook his head. "Have you ever thought to contact her or your mother or  _anyone_?" It seemed hard to believe that he could push his entire past-life away withou second thoughts, but he shook his head in confirmation. "Wow."

He kicked his feet back and forth again and I watched as the wind blew threw his thick locks each time he swung forward. His eyes were narrowed, but he didn't seem mad; he just seemed like he was in deep thought.

"What about you?" he finally said. "What was your childhood like?"

I casted my eyes downward. "It wasn't very good either."

"Really?" He looked surprised and I nodded. "I never really got that vibe from you."

"Sorry to shock you, but no, it wasn't all that great. It wasn't anything like your situation, but it sucked in a whole different way."

"Okay, explain," he said, intrigued.

"Um, alright. I don't really tell people things like this so..."

"No worries," he smiled assuirngly and nudged my side. "I don't tell anybody about myself either. Nobody ever wants to listen . But if it means anything to you, I wanna listen to you. It's good to let some things off your chest."

"Thanks," I said, grinning into the shoulder of my over sized jacket. "Okay, you know that I'm adopted, right? I think I told you that." Harry nodded so I continued. "Well in order for a family to adopt they have to go through background checks and they have to make sure that you're financially stable and suitable for adoption. There are so many proceedures that people have to go through in order to adopt. My parents passed them which is why they were able to adopt me.

"Things in the family were pretty alright for a while, you know, stereotypical family stuff was good for a couple of years. My brother, Finn and I always fought and bickered like all kids do and both of my parents worked day jobs so they were home with us in the evenings. But something kinda big happened that changed everything for us suddenly.

"One night when I was around seven years old (Finn was eight,) I woke up to this loud beeping sound coming from somewhere in the house and l remember my dad storming into my room and pulling me out of the bed and out of the house with my mom and brother directly behind us, only it was extremely hard to see and to breathe and I didn't know why because I still wasn't fully aware of what was going on. But when we got outside, I sorta figured it out that our house was on fire. I mean, it would be pretty hard not to by the huge flames and clouds of smoke that were surrounding the house. I guess a neighbor or someone had called the fire department because fire trucks and police officers and ambulances came even though we had all made it out alright."

"Oh my God," Harry breathed, eyes wide.

"I know. I just remember standing there and staring at the house, thinking like, " _all_  of my stuff is in there," and "where are we going to live now?" because the house was unoccupiable at that point."

"Did they ever figure out what started it?" he interrupted.

"Yeah, the stove was left on from dinner that night and it overheated after hours of it being on and it caught fire. It was a gas stove which made everything worse and helped to spread the fire."

"What did you guys do?"

"We lived with my grandparents for a couple months until we could fiancially recover from the devastation. We had to replace  _everything_  and find a new house and do all of this stuff and it all costed  _money_ ; a lot of it. And sure, we had people from town and school that brought us food and gave us things like clothes and toys, but I hated it. It was hard enough being an outlying child in a family that I felt like I didn't always fit in, but then I also had to endure all this shit at school too, people asking me how my family was and if I needed anything. I felt like a charity case.

"And to make everything ten times worse, the company that my dad had been working for for years shut down that same year. He was unemployed for a while and my mom had to double up on jobs. Finally my dad found a new job, but it required him to work out of the city, so I only got to see him a few times a month. It was hard. It was so fucking hard. We struggled with money so much; it never got to the point where I worried if we'd be able to eat dinner that night or anything, but we just didn't have a lot of nice things. Plus, I never got to see my family either. That's why Finn and I learned to get along because we both needed each other and because there was never anybody else for us to go to for things.

"I don't blame my parents, though. They always did their best for us and I loved them, regardless but it was just scary to go from having typical things to having barely anything at all. They saved a lot of money to put into college funds for Finn and I. It was hard because neither of my parents went to college, but my mom would always say, 'You gotta focus on school because as long as you're smart and you do what you're supposed to do, you'll go far.' So that's what I did. Finn and I worked hard in school and then we went to college together too. He became a lawyer and I became a nurse. And... that's how I got here," I ended, not exactly sure on how to finish my story.

Harry was quiet for a long time, which worried me although it shouldn't have. Talking so much about myself felt a little weird and him not responding made me slightly uncomfortable, so I uneasily swung back and forth on my swing.

"That's why money is so important to you, isn't it?" he asked seriously. "Because you don't want anything like that to happen again."

"Yeah, a little bit," I agreed. "And that's why I don't like people buying me things that I can buy on my own. It makes me feel incapable of doing so and I hate the feeling of 'incapability' more than anything. We were so fucking tight on money and I have no idea how we even got through, but I didn't need people pitying me. I didn't need them feeling sorry for me; I already felt sorry for me. I just needed somebody to understand what was going on."

"I understand," Harry said. "I completely understand."

My eyes met his and I learned right then and there that his grin was too contagious to not smile when he was.

"Thanks," I told him. "You seem to be the only one who understands me."

"And you seem to be the only one that understands me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Alright, so this chapter was probably really unexciting, but it was important for me to have Harry and Charlie make up (HARLIE FOR LIIIIIIIFE), and add some background to the characters lives(: Boring or not, I still hope you guys enjoyed it at least a little bit.
> 
> Please comment and vote for my chapters if you like them! I loooooooove reading your comments!
> 
> Cute as a button, every single one of you(:
> 
> -Mia<3


	13. Chapter 11

*Harry's POV*

 

_Her lips were warm and wet against mine, her face indescribably soft and smooth against my fingertips as they danced softly across the gentle curve of her face, our lips never parting for a second. My free hand traveled first to her waist, then to her back, and lastly to the pony tail in her hair. I lightly tugged on the band until her long, brunette hair was free from it's confines and it fanned out around her face. She placed a hand on my chest and nudged me away slightly as she chuckled under her breath and pulled her wavy locks over one shoulder. I smiled at her and we stared at each other for a few short moments before she rested a hand on the back of my neck and drew me back in for another long kiss._

_Everything seemed to fit between us; her hands in mine, our chests against each other each time I placed my hands on her hips and pulled her to me, her legs around my waist and arms around my neck as we continued to kiss over and over and over again._

_I couldn't remember the last time I had butterflies like this; my stomach fluttered nonstop as I felt her warmth and affection with each little touch, almost like her fingers were made of magic and all of her thoughts and feelings just flowed through me. But she didn't have to worry because it was all reciprocated._

_And, for once in my life, I honestly felt like somebody_ actually  _loved me..._

 

_. . ._

 

_DING- DONG._

I woke up abruptly at the sound. My eyes opened and wandered around the room for an explanation but was rewarded with nothing but the familiar sight of my own living room. The TV was just shy of being on mute, but it was on nevertheless. I looked down at my lap and observed a small blanket thrown over top of me and very slowly, it hit me like a brick to the face.

_I was asleep._

_It was a dream._

_It was a_  fucking _DREAM._

Charlie... me... None of it happened. We didn't kiss. I didn't cup her small face in my hands as we kissed. She didn't giggle when I pulled the ponytail out of her hair. My hands didn't touch her skin when I pulled her close to me.  _Nothing fricking happened between us because it wasn't real in the first place_.

I groaned dramatically and slid my back down the couch as I rubbed my eyes with my palms. I was still shocked by the conundrum my mind had wickedly played on me. But unfortunately this wasn't the first time I'd had a dream like this. It was becoming an increasingly recurring thing and I couldn't understand  _why._  Ever since Charlie and I had made up a month or so ago, I'd been trying to convince myself that she was off-limits, not because I didn't like her in that sort of way, but because I would be absolutely devastated to be turned down by such an impeccably perfect girl. I couldn't risk ruining a consummately good friendship (again, might I add). But for some reason my mind decided to take that silent knowledge and twist it into a little game called 'you can't have her, so I'm going to taunt you with really amazing dreams that are going to make you want her even more.'

 _Well FUCK YOU, subconscious_.

The doorbell rang again, surprising me out of my little daze, and I immediately recognized the sound as the noise I heard prior. I glimpsed around the room to find a clock because I actually had no  _freaking_  clue what time it was. My eyes locked on the digital clock just above the TV, reading 9:29. I smiled.

 _Must be Charlie_ , I thought.

I flipped the blanket off my lap and scrambled to get the door. When I pulled it open, there stood Charlie against the brick of the house, shamelessly in blue hospital scrubs, hair tied back into a french braid with a small smile gracing her face. I couldn't help myself from staring longingly at her pink heart-shaped lips.

"Hi," she said to me and my cheeks flushed when I realized I was being a FRICKING WEIRDO.

Throughout the past month or so, Charlie had been dropping by every so often around the same time after work, each time, for seemingly different reasons. It started out with excuses like, 'I was passing your neighborhood on the way home, anyway. I thought I might as well stop by to say hi,' or 'What? You're not happy to see me? Am I  _not_  the light of your life?' but eventually, the excuses started lacking substance. Each time she came by, she would sputter out some random reason why she was there, which made me realize quickly that she didn't really have a reason to come. Now don't get me wrong, I was totally fine with that, I was just implying that she wasn't fooling anybody with her weak attempts at justification.

"Hi," I finally replied, gesturing into my house to invite her inside. I closed the door after she passed by me and stepped into the foyer. "Could I interest you in a cup of tea?" I offered, taking her jacket from her and lying it over the back of the chair in the living room.

Charlie shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest tightly. "Uh, no thank you," she answered and I raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"Really? You? Not wanting a cup of tea?" I laughed and walked past her into the kitchen to prepare tea for myself. "Who are you and what have you done with Charlie Hopkins?"

I faced her and she shrugged. "I don't know. I'm just not very thirsty, I guess." She took a seat at her usual place at the breakfast table and I stopped what I was doing to examine her carefully. She stared back at me with a not-so-Charlie look in her eyes.

I squinted and pulled a teabag from the cupboard. "Hey, is everything okay?"

She nodded and smiled convincingly at me. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just not in the mood for tea is all."

"Okaaaaay. Well just let me know if you want some. I don't mind, you know. I'll be sure to make plenty, just in case."

"Thank you," she half-smiled.

Charlie remained abnormally quiet as I fixed the tea on the stove. I left it to simmer on it's own and took my usual seat across from Charlie.

"So, how was work today?" I asked, starting the conversation for once and folding my hands in front of me on the table. "Save lots of lives?" I teased.

Her mouth turned up in a grin and she shrugged again. "I don't really save lives. That's more the work of a surgeon or a doctor or something. Not really me."

"But you're still important," I reiterated. "You're like a backup singer, you know?" She gave me a confused look, obviously not understanding my analogy. "I mean that you may not be in the spotlight all the time, but the show couldn't go on without you."

"Oh, I understand. Thank you." Her eyes wandered away from mine and fell to face the floor instead.

Something was off. This was not how things were supposed to be. Normally she would come in the door, cracking a joke at something or another and begging me to make her tea because, and I quote, 'You make the best tea in the world, _I swear,_ ' and then we would sit in the kitchen, sipping tea for an hour or two, talking about anything and everything until she eventually had to leave. The process would repeat almost every night. And it would be crazy to say I  _didn't_  enjoy her company. It was becoming routine and I liked routine.

But something was clearly not quite right this time.

"What's wrong, Charlie?" I asked her, leaning forward a bit in my chair.

"Nothing," she insisted, shaking her head and smiling at me. But I knew better than to believe it because as genuine and beautiful as that smile looked, it was about as plastic as Cher's face. I knew that forced, phony smile forward and backward. Only someone who fakes smiles everyday of their life could ever notice the lies that were buried beneath it.

"Obviously something's going on," I started again softly. "Whatever it is, you can tell me about it."

"I told you there's nothing, wrong," she tried stressing to me, but the words didn't quite match the dullness in her eyes.

"Charlie..."

"Harry, just leave it alone!" she snapped. "I told you I was fine so just leave it at that! Oh my,  _God_."

My eyebrows furrowed and I felt my heart beat faster in my chest at her words. "No. I know there's something you're not telling me! Do you know how hypocritical that is? You tell me all the time to let you know when I'm feeling down because you want to help me, so why won't you just let me help you this once?!"

She grew quiet and I waited impatiently for her to answer me, but when she glimpsed up at me and I saw her eyes filling with tears, I knew for sure I'd crossed a boundary.

 _Well shit_.

Before I could apologize (or even form a coherent thought for that matter), she bent forward and buried her face in her elbows, bursting into tears right there. I opened my mouth to say something, but was cut off by a loud sob.

"Oh my, God," I muttered, immediately regretting getting fed up only seconds before. "Oh my, God," I said again and I realized that those seemed to be the only words registering in my brain as I pushed my chair away from the table and took a seat beside her.

"Charlie, I'm sorry," I said, not knowing what else to say. "I didn't mean to get upset. I should have just dropped it. I didn't mean to push too far. I'm really sorry. Oh my, God, I didn't mean to make you cry. Please stop crying. I don't know how to handle tears." I wrapped my arms around her, thinking she could use a hug, and I could feel her shake in my grip. I kept apologizing and saying things like, "I'm sorry, oh, God, I'm sorry. Please don't cry," over and over again.

She raised her head and turned to wrap her arms around the back of my neck, crying into my shoulder in lieu of the table.

So maybe I  _wasn't_  the cause of these waterworks.

I felt her tears tickling my neck and wetting my sweatshirt as she cried into me. "Hey,  _hey_ , it's okay," I consoled, rubbing her back soothingly. "Whatever it is, it'll be alright." She shook her head and gripped my hood tightly. "Yes it will. I'll help you."

" _I'm just done_ ," she choked out before resorting back to harsh sobs. My breath caught and my stomach clenched uneasily.  _Jesus Christ, I hope she's not talking about what I think. Because those were the toxic thoughts that lead me to..._

"What do you mean by that?" I asked, grabbing her arms and pulling her back to see her tear-stained face and running rose. She didn't answer so I asked her again. "Charlie, what are you talking about?"

"I-I'm okay, I'm okay," she sniveled. "I just mean th-that I'm having an extremely hard time at work, okay? I'm miserable and so unhappy. I-"

I exhaled a long sigh of relief because that was something I could work with.

"Okay, okay," I said understandingly, rocking her back and forth comfortingly. Her eyes and nose were bright pink and her bottom lip trembled pitifully as she tried to refrain from crying. "Come on, Love, let's go into the other room and talk about it," I said, pulling her up by her elbows and helping her to the couch in the living room.

I plopped down beside her and grabbed the blanket I'd been using earlier to drape around her hunched figure while she covered her face with her hands to hide the tears. She hadn't quieted any so I waited a few minutes for her to calm down before I talked.

"Okay, so tell me..." I rested my cheek against her shoulder blade. "What's going on? What's got you all shaken up?"

She sniffed. "It just sounds s-so stupid," she sputtered. "You're going to think I'm pathetic, I just know it." That absolutely  _ridiculous_  revelation seemed to upset her even more and she looked down at her lap.

I almost laughed but considered that maybe that wouldn't translate well. "Now does that sound like something I would do?" I smiled. She didn't answer, so I balled up my sweatshirt sleeve and leaned down to be eye-level with her as I carefully wiped at the salty tears running down her face. She looked up at me and smiled a bit, so I pinched her nose with the sleeve too, making her flinch.

"Ew, don't do that. You're going to get my snot all over your sweatshirt," she cautioned as though I actually gave a shit.

"Maybe I like your snot. Maybe I want it on my sleeves," I suggested and she laughed, like,  _actually_  laughed. "You see! There's that topnotch smile!" I said, enveloping her with another arm. She leaned in, smiling.

"It's not topnotch," she mumbled into my collarbone (at least that's what it sounded like she said).

" _I_  think it is," I told her matter-of-fact. "Now why don't you tell me what's got your panties in a wad." She punched my arm and I chuckled. "I'm serious, though. I promise I won't think you're pathetic."

"I'm just having such a hard time right now," she told me and wiped her eyes on the corner of the blanket. "I'm so stressed out that I can actually feel myself going insane. Too much is going on, to the point that I can't even think straight. My doctor uped my dosage of OCD medication because my brain is a literal war zone."

"That's pretty serious," I sanctioned. "What happened?"

"It's apparently because of my sleep patterns. I don't get enough sleep at night, and so my brain can't function very well under lack of sleep, too much working,and some recently more serious compulsive problems. It's getting to be too much for me. I work way more than I sleep. I'm running around the majority of the day and I'm constantly on my feet. And oh my, God, Harry, my feet... they hurt so  _bad_. You don't understand. The heels and arches are worn down on these shoes." She lifted up her feet for me to see her overused, gym-shoes.

"So take them off!" I demanded, reaching down to untie the laces. I pulled out the knots on each and shimmied both off of her feet, tossing the them aside the second I got them off. "Better?"

She shook her head. "I feel fine for a while, but it's only because I'm sitting down. The relief is small and temporary."

I didn't want to tell her 'I'm sorry' because I knew how some people hated when you apologized for something you had no part in, so I just chewed on the inside of my cheek and nodded.

"And I'm so fucking _tired_. All the time. I can't escape it. Do you see my eyes? Look at my eyes." She looked up at me and pointed at the dark circles under her eyes. I noticed she tried concealing them with make up, but they were so prominent that it was hard to hide them. "I can't get rid of them no matter what I do."

"Jesus, Charlie, you're going to work yourself sick if you don't do something to fix this. You can't keep living on five to six hours of sleep every night and then working extreme hours during the week. You don't ever have time for yourself. This is a serious problem. You're going to burn yourself out if something doesn't change."

"I know, I know," she said and tears started falling from her hollow eyes. "I know something has to change, but I don't know what to do about it."

I shook my head. "You know exactly what you have to do. You have to stop working so much over-time." The second the words left my mouth, she was prepared to argue, but I held up my hand to stop her. "Don't fight me on this. If you're scared that you're not going to have enough money then, you're wrong. You'll be fine. And even if you just cut back your hours a bit, it'll be a lot easier for you? You can't keep doing this. You'll run yourself dry and keep coming back here every night saying the same things you're telling me tonight. Tell me you'll do something."

She nodded and put her face in her hands. "I will."

I frowned and pulled the blanket tighter around her. "What's wrong now?"

"I just... I haven't cried in such a long time," she sobbed. "It just feels really nice and refreshing and I can't seem to stop now."

I laughed and patted her back. "Well I'm glad it's making you feel better. Cry as long as you need to."

"Thank you," she managed through the obstruction of her hands. "You're a really great friend." She smiled a teary-faced smile and hugged me. "I'm so glad I have you to cry to or talk to or laugh with or make fun of."

"I'm so glad I have you to make fun of me, too," I admitted, hooking my hands around her waist. "And you know, you and I are the same in a lot of ways."

"Really? How?"

"Well, we both like to be held when we're upset."

"That's true," Charlie agreed and squeezed me. "And you know what else?" she asked.

"What?"

"I don't know what the  _hell_  I was thinking when I walked in. I need as cup of tea. I've said it before and I'll say it again, yours is the best in the whole wide world."

"THE TEA," I shouted and sprung off the couch in an instant, nearly taking Charlie with me. "I FORGOT THE TEA."

Luckily, I was able to salvage the tea, no problem. I conjured up a cup for Charlie and I both and brought them into the living room. When I handed Charlie hers, she sipped it carefully from the edge, blowing on it before tipping it into her mouth.

We sat in peace for a little while until she broke the silence.

"For the millionth time, thank you, Harry... for everything. I just came into your house, uninvited, and started pouring all of my problems on you. That wasn't supposed to happen."

I waved her off. "Stop it. It's fine, really."

"Okay," she said, still unsure.

I snagged the remote off the coffee table and flipped the TV on. "What do you wanna watch?"

"Anything."

So we sat on the sofa together, so close that our shoulders touched, as we downed 'The World's Best Tea' and watched a crime show we'd both agreed upon.

Not even five minutes after she had consumed her drink in its entirety, she was curled up next to me, her head resting on my bicep and her eyes fluttering closed. From a stranger's perspective, I'm sure we looked like a couple, from the way we acted around each other to the way we talked to each other to how close we'd become in such little time. I felt like if I really needed to, I could tell her anything. She'd seen me at my worst and at my weakest; what else was there to hide?

I glanced down at Charlie again and shook my shoulder, smiling. "Are you just gonna pass out right there, then?"

Charlie hummed sleepily. "No, I think I'm gonna- gonna... hm... go home. Yeah, home"

I snorted. "No you're not."

"Uh-huh," she retorted.

"You're going to get up off this couch, walk all the way outside to your car, and drive the whole way home?" I waited patiently for a response, but none came. "Exactly," I grinned.

She poked my bicep with her index finger. "You're muscle-y arm meat is just so comfortable, I don't know how I'll ever part from it."

_'Muscle-y arm meat'? What the heck, Charlie._

"Okay, then stay here," I said. "I don't mind." I actually hadn't meant to say that at all. It had been more of an inner thought that somehow managed its way out, so I just pretended now like I had meant it all along.

"What? No," she said.

"Yes, I'm serious."

"No."

"Why not?"

"I- I don't know."

"Right. Good. So I'll go get you something to wear, then."

I knew she was going to argue with me about it, because that's just the kind of person she was, so I jumped up quickly and climbed the stairs to my bedroom where I grabbed her a shirt and a pair of sweat pants I'd outgrown a while ago but never really got around to getting rid of.

When I walked back into the living room, Charlie was curled up on the couch with the blanket tucked snugly around her.

"Here," I said, setting the items on the table. "You can wear these if you want to, you know, so you don't have to sleep in the clothes you've been wearing all day around a bunch of sick people."

Charlie sat up and stretched, taking the clothes and hugging them to her chest. "Are you sure you don't mind? I ca-"

I narrowed my eyes at her. "Don't be ridiculous. Shut up and go change."

"But-"

"Go change," I said, pushing her in the direction of the bathroom, cutting her off again. "God, you fight me on  _everything_."

"No I don't," she defended.

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Example A. Now stop over thinking everything before I kick you out of my house for being annoying."

For once, Charlie didn't argue with me. She laughed instead.

 

. . .

 

*Charlie's POV*

 

It shouldn't have been _that_  big of a deal, but it was. I mean, I'd stayed the night at friend's houses before- I practically lived at Vince's- but this was  _Harry_. He wasn't just a friend, he was someone I undeniably had a thing for. I'd never stayed at someone's house that I was, like, into before and I began internally panicking because I was worried I was going to screw things up. But then I got to thinking,  _how the hell do you mess things up when you're asleep?_

I looked at the materials in my hands.

_Jesus Christ, he wants me to wear his clothes too?_

I couldn't breathe.

It only took me a few minutes untangle my hair from the braid it was previously in and to change into the shirt and pants Harry was lending me (WHICH, BY THE WAY, WERE EVEN WARMER AND MORE COMFORTABLE THAN I WAS EXPECTING, OH MY GOD).

By time I reentered the living room, Harry was already passed out on the couch, his arms crossed over the arm rest with his head resting lightly atop the pretzel-shape his arms made. I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to just walk over there and press my lips to his soft, plump, irresistible lips like I did the night of the Great Park Escape.

But I didn't. I resisted.

Instead, I walked over, grabbed a pillow and a blanket from the sofa and set up so my head was resting on his thigh and my body was curled up under the blanket over top of me.

I don't remember much of what happened from there- probably nothing since he was already asleep and I was nearing Sleepy-Ville myself- but if my memory wasn't deceiving me and I was remembering correctly, I could have  _sworn_  I felt his arm encompass me as I drifted off into one of the best nights of sleep I'd ever received.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi everybody(: So this was sort of a short chapter, but I didn't think I should continue into anything else until next chapter, otherwise it would have seemed reeally sloppy in my opinion.
> 
> I want to thank you guys so much for everything this story has become (which isn't too much yet, but I'm hoping it will get noticed by chance sometime soon)! Please comment and vote as always if you liked the chapter!
> 
> I love you guys!
> 
> Cute as a button, every single one of you(:
> 
> -Mia<3


	14. Chapter 12

*Harry's POV*

 

" _MOTHER-FUCKING SON OF A BITCH DOUCHE-DICK ASSHOLE! FUCK YOUUU!_ " I threw my controller at the couch opposite mine. It bounced off the cushions and landed not-so-gracefully on the hardwood floor. " _GAH!_ " I groaned frustratingly and fell backwards on the sofa with a harsh plop.

A knock sounded at the door and I yelled for whoever it was-- my guess being Charlie-- to come inside. It opened a couple seconds later and the rustling of grocery bags and shuffling of footsteps could be heard as she came inside.

"What the hell is going on in here?" she requested, a hint of worry in her voice.

I rubbed my temples and squinted my eyes open just enough to see her dropping all of the bags onto the couch across the table from me. I raised an eyebrow and sat up a bit.

"Nothing. I'll explain later."

"Okay..." She looked genuinely confused, but I assured her everything was fine.

I gandered at all of the things she brought with her and suddenly it was my turn to be thoroughly confused.

"Um, what is all of this stuff?" I asked, standing up to approach the groceries thrown haphazardly onto my furniture.

Charlie placed her hands on her hips and stared up at me... literally (I was at least a head taller than her). "Well, I mean, if you're alright with it, I was sorta planning on inviting myself over to hanging out for a little bit today. I mean, I wasn't doing anything and typically you aren't so either, so..."

I picked through the plastic bags and had to force back a laugh as I observed the contents; candy bars, cereal, chocolate brownies, popcorn (now with X-tra butter!), Skittles, Oreos... all of it a shit-ton of heart-attack inducing junk food.

"It's official. I need an explanation."

She sighed and lent forward, bracing her palms on the back of the couch. "Well, I spend, like, half of my time here anyway so I thought I'd reimburse your pantry with all of the food I've eaten over the past thousand times I've been here, plus more since I'll probably do it again."

I sent her a disapproving look. "Charlie, you don't have to do that and you know it. I have more stuff than I need in there."

She inhaled a deep breath and released it, blowing loose strands of hair out of her face. "Don't worry about it. I was already at the store. And anyway, if I'm going to be here, I basically need food within reach at all times."

"Who said you could even come over?"

"Uh, I believe that was me." She pointed to herself and walked around to sit on the sofa I'd previously been on.

"Oh right. I forgot. Things are non-negotiable if you decide on them, am I right?" I said sarcastically.

"Right," she nodded. I stared at her humorously and waited for her to say something else. She tried to hold my stare, but she broke it off eventually and bit the inside of her lip hopefully. "Fine, okay. I'm sorry. Could I  _pretty please_  stay over and hang out you?"

I smiled. It seemed like recently, she always wanted to be spending time with me. It was reassuring and it made me feel important. And I of course loved being with her as well. Charlie brought out the best in me. I never felt lonely in her presence. She made everything so much more interesting and I felt confident in saying that I tended to learn more about her every single day I was with her.

"There ya go! Now, was it so hard to ask?"

Her pink lips turned up into a smirk. "If I'm honest, pretty damn hard."

I strolled over and sat down beside her, kicking my feet out onto the coffee table and nudging hers over in the process. "Yeah, whatever."

This had become a normal thing lately, Charlie swinging by during the day when she could. Ever since she changed her work schedule to something much more manageable, she now only had to endure three full days a week with the exception of a few hours a day on occasion during her 'off-days', and so far she had stopped by my house each day since. But it's not like I minded of course.

_I loved her... (company)(???)._

We sat so close together you would be stupid to think we weren't a couple. Our shoulders brushed and our knees touched as we leaned into each other's sides.

"So what did you have in store for today?" she inquired drawing shapes onto her jean-clad pantleg.

I shrugged. "Nothing as always."

"That's always your answer."

"You're the creative one!  _You_  come up with something fun to do."

"Okay... well what were you doing before I got here?"

"Hm, getting my ass whooped on Call of Duty."

"Is that what you were freaking out about before I walked in?"

"Pretty much."

"Well that sounds like a great time to me. I'd be honored to join you."

"Oh, joy," I breathed.

"What?"

"Nothing. All I know is that this is not going to turn out well. Have you played before?"

She shook her head no. "You'll have to teach me."

"Oh geez. I suck too, so maybe  _I_  shouldn't be the one to teach you."

"It's okay. You'll still be better than me anyway."

"Okaaaay," I replied reluctantly but proceeded to find an Xbox controller to give to her. I restarted the system and waited until  _Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2_  popped up on the screen to set it up.

"Oh my God, Harry. Isn't this game like a gazillion years old?"

I pressed start and selected  _Multi-player_  from the main screen. "Yes, but it was the first one I ever got. I've played others but I don't like them very much so I generally just play this one."

"Okay. Are we going to fight against each other or the game?"

"Each other at first until you get the hang of it." I took the controller from her and signed her into an account. She sat quietly as I logged her in and began creating a variation of different gun classes for her so she would have a assortment to choose from.

"I feel like I'd like machine guns because I don't have the patience to stand there and reload every few seconds."

"Okay. There you go. You have a UMP45, a Vector, and an MP5K. You'll like any of those because they're all submachine guns and I also made one with an Intervention Sniper Rifle and an AA-12 shotgun because honestly I don't know what you're going to like. Just experiment I guess. Everything else I set up like mine."

"Thank you," she smiled as I handed the controller back to her. I scrolled through the list of maps and selected  _Favela_  because it was my favorite and it was also fun and easy to get around in.

"I'll show you how to play instead of telling you. It'll be easier." I pressed  _Start Game_  and waited until everything loaded, we chose our gun classes, and the clock started counting down to show Charlie how it all works.

"Alright. Give me your hands," I instructed. She scooted closer to me and sat still as I placed my palms over her knuckles, emulating the position of her hands gripping the controller. Compared to my hands, hers were so small. I felt the irresistible urge to remove them from the device and just intertwine them with mine, but a small voice in the back of my mind told me not to be a  _fucking. idiot._

The moral of the story is I decided not to be creepy.

"Okay," I started. "If you forget what I tell you, you can just ask me or figure it out by yourself. But basically, this is what all of the buttons do. This," I moved my left thumb over hers and tapped the left thumb stick. "This is how you you move forward and backward, left and right, and basically any other direction. And if you press down on the top of it, you can run? Got it?" She nodded. "Good. Now," I moved her right thumb over the right thumb stick, "this is how you look around. You have to use both at the same time to get around. It's a little confusing and awkward at first, but you'll get used to it. Go ahead and try it."

Charlie pushed them both forward a little and her character moved forward on the screen. She messed with it for another moment and somehow managed to spin him around in circles about ten times and then run down some steps and into the wall of a building.

"I can already tell I'm going to suck at this."

"I know. Like I said, it's a work in progress. Next." I took her hands again and tried to forget about the blush that came to my cheeks as our hands touched again. I moved her left index finger over the left trigger and pressed it down. "This is how you aim or look down your scope. And then this," I pressed her right index finger over the right trigger and a series of bullets shot out of the gun. The controller vibrated and it surprised her. I chuckled. "This is how you actually shoot. And then above that on the right bumper is how you throw grenades."

She pushed it down herself and it released a sticky grenade that stuck on the wall in front of her on the screen. It exploded and inevitably killed her and apparently she thought it was hilarious because she couldn't stop laughing as her character respawned.

"I've been playing this for forty-nine seconds and I've already killed myself. This is gonna be great."

I went on explaining the importance of each button to her and after she felt like she had a basic, proficient knowledge of what she was doing, we began a real game.

"Don't go easy on me," she told me as the new game loaded. "I won't ever get better at it if you just let me win."

I nodded understandingly even though she didn't have to worry because I actually probably wasn't that much better than she was. And it was then that the match commenced.

The beginning was pretty gruesome. Within the first two and a half minutes, I'd already killed Charlie eight times and she'd accidentally killed herself twice (once through accidentally throwing a sticky grenade and once more by jumping off a building that was too tall for her to survive the fall). With each death she grew more and more frustrated and I became more and more entertained.

I rounded the corner I saw she was about to come around and swung my knife out to cut her guy's throat.

"WHAT THE  _FUCK._  WHAT DID YOU EVEN DO TO ME  _THIS TIME?_ " she exploded, throwing her hands up in the air.

I laughed evilly and ran away from her dead body. "I showed you how to do that! If you press down on the top of the right thumb stick and you swing a knife out."

"I thought you said you weren't good at this game!" she groaned. "I half expected to at least be able to match your abilities."

"I'm not that good, though! You're just really bad."

She grunted and started running around aimlessly again. "But how did you even know where I was? You just rounded the corner and  _BAM_  I'm fucking dead."

"Love, there's a map in the top left corner of your screen that shows where both of us are."

Her eyes shifted to where the map was and her mouth hung open in disbelief. "You have GOT to be kidding me!" She shoved a pillow into her face proceeded to drop the controller onto my lap. "I can't do it anymore."

I paused the game and bit the inside of my cheek to force back a laugh. "Hey, don't get discouraged. This is only your first time playing. Keep trying. Now you know something that will help you do better."

"I am horrible at this game."

"Who gives a shit?" I said, dropping the controller back in her lap. "It's just a game and you're playing against _me_. What, you think I'm going to judge you or something?"

"No."

"Then play! It's supposed to be fun."

"No more laughing at me, okay?"

"I can't promise anything," I grinned, but a quick glance at her told me she didn't look very amused.

"Whatever," she said turning back around to face the TV but out of the corner of my eye I could see her cracking a smile.

 

. . .

 

Believe it or not, after Charlie figured out how to use the map and managed to get a hang of how to play, she wasn't too bad. She even killed me a few times as payback. Her favorite way was to stick grenades on me and then run in the opposite direction, giggling as my death ensued. We played for hours. We even did Special Ops missions together (which most of them ended terribly, but that's besides the point).

Four long hours later of cussing up a storm, yelling in agitation, and groaning in defeat, we agreed that we'd both shared enough humiliation to last us a long time. We shut down the Xbox and resorted to the kitchen where we started preparing something that was supposed to resemble dinner. I mean, it wasn't really anything that great, just some chicken and potatoes and carrots, but overall it turned out pretty great. I thought I was a good cook, if I did say so myself.

Now, we were sat, lounging in my living room each with a plate of food in our hands and the TV volume on a low setting as we talked. Charlie came across a webpage called  _50 Questions To Ask Your Crush To See If They're Right For You_ , and although we weren't asking them for that reason, they were good questions that could apply to any relationship (in our case, f-r-i-e-n-d-s-h-i-p).

"Alright, who's going to start it off?"

I plowed a small bite of potatoes into my mouth and hummed. "How about you start since the questions are on your phone. And when it's my turn you can just toss it here and we can continue going back and forth like that."

"Okay, great. And when you answer a question, you have to elaborate, otherwise it's no fun." I nodded. "Alright. Hm... where would you live if you could live anywhere in the world?"

I watched Charlie childishly push her carrots around her plate as I thought up a response. "I think I would love to live in Latin America. Probably somewhere like Honduras or Guatemala or El Salvador."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Interesting. Why there?"

"I want to live someplace that's always warm and beautiful. Here it's cold and rainy and only occasionally nice. I could use a drastic change of scenery so everything around me isn't so glum all the time. Places around there are so colorful and full of life. It sounds perfect to me."

Charlie smiled when she tossed her phone to me. "That sounds wonderful."

"Thank you. Maybe I'll take you with me," I joked (sorta, but she doesn't have to know that.) I scrolled through the list of fifty questions until I found one that I wanted to ask her. "What is your biggest pet peeve?"

"Oh, that's a hard one. I get annoyed by everything. I'd probably have to say I hate wet door knobs more than anything else in this world. It's the worst feeling when you've just washed your hands in a public bathroom and they're all dry and then you go to open the door and it's  _wet._ "

"I've never heard anything like that before in my life."

"Good. It means I'm one of a kind then."

"Or it means you're a loner."

"Shut up," she glared. I beamed innocently as I tossed the phone back to her. "What one dead person would you most like to have dinner with, if it were possible?" she read.

"Uh, Whitney Houston," I said straight off.

"Impressive," she giggled. "Why her?"

"Why  _not_  her?" I almost sounded offended, like it would be an absolute travesty to invite any other person but Whitney Houston to dinner. She's one of the best female vocalists of  _all time_  and she's been one of my greatest inspirations since I was a little kid. She's fricking incredible. Whitney Houston is the only acceptable response."

"Sounds like you've got a crush."

"Uh, yeah. Majorly." I caught the phone in my right hand when she threw it to me. "What is the weirdest thing you find most attractive in a person?"

"Oh, God. I don't even know... maybe... smell?" She laughed at herself. "I don't know. I love when I can smell cologne on a guy. It's like instant love when a guy walks past me and I can smell him. _Oh God_ , yes. It's like a little taste of heaven."

I smirked. "You're so creepy."  _Says the guy who fantasizes about holding your hand._

"Okay whatever, Mr. Whitney Houston. Keep drinking your Haterade all you want but I'm sure you have weird kinks too. Hand me my phone."

I scowled but handed it to her. Her brown eyes (that were so dark they were nearly black, I swear) scanned the screen until she settled upon one. "Oh, this is a good one. Would you rather be twice as smart or twice as happy as you are now?"

I was quiet for a really long time as I repeated the question in my head and pondered over what I would answer with. "I'd rather be twice as happy. I know I'm not all that smart begin with, but I also know I'm really not all that happy either." Charlie frowned and I felt a little bad for my umsympathetic answer, but it was true. "I was never a good student in school or even a particularly good kid in general. School was basically Hell for me and I didn't learn shit in there. As much as I'd love to have brains, my lack of intelligence never brought me to the point of wanting to kill myself; that was my lack of happiness." I wiped my palms on my sweatpants and leaned back against the couch as an uncomfortable silence took over the room.

"I know you're not going to believe me when I say it, because if I was in your position, I wouldn't either, but you're honestly one of the smartest people I've ever known," Charlie said quietly. "I think you're incredibly smart, maybe not book smart, but you're so much wiser than anybody I've met. You know more about life and experience than most people and that's knowledge in itself. The only knowledge I have of anything is the knowledge from a classroom. In a lot of ways, you're a lot smarter than the average person and I sort of admire that. That's just me."

I sighed and rubbed my eyes because I felt like I'd upset her by putting myself down again. She asolutely hated when I did that.

"Yeah, maybe." I half-smiled. I wasn't paying attention so when the phone landed on the couch it startled me. I picked it up and read through some of the questions and settled on, "If you were going to die in a week, what is the one thing you would do before you died?"

"I really don't know... I'm just going to go out on a limb here and say maybe I'd kiss somebody." I looked up at her and saw her cheeks heat to a rosy pink. "I haven't kissed anyone in a long time. I'd really like to again at  _some point_  before I die."

_Oh, God._

_She just had to say that, didn't she?_

_Now all I can think about is her lips and her kissing me again._

I almost interjected and reminded her that she kissed me like two months ago, but I didn't really want that conversation to resurface, so I bit my tongue.

"Have you had any recent boyfriends?"

_Is that too weird to ask someone? Hopefully not..._

"I don't really count high school relationships because those usually last for a month, tops. Since high school, though, I've only had about three or four. Once I started working at the hospital, it became a little harder to maintain relationships."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "It doesn't really bother me that much. If they were really worth it, we would have made it work."

"So have you ever... no, never mind."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You can't start asking me something and then say, 'never mind'. That is a friendship code violation. What were you going to say?"

I felt myself blush so I pushed a pillow over myface and mumbled, "It's an awkward question."

"Have you even met me, Harry? Queen of awkwardness, weirdness... you name it. Just ask me."

"No." I really wanted to know but at the same time, it was weird to ask somebody you weren't dating.

"Yes."

"No."

"Stop being a weenie and just ask me before I staple your hands to your ass."

"Dear Lord."

"Harry!"

"What?!"

"Just ask me for God's sake!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

" _Yes!_ "

"Stop yelling at me!"

"Not until you say it!"

"Fine,  _God!_ " I groaned loudly. "Are you a virgin?"

"You have  _got_  to be kidding me. It's really not _that_  awkward of a question to ask, is it?"

"To me it is." I willed my face to not redden.

"You're ridiculous. You can ask me anything. And to answer your question, no, I'm not. Are you?"

I was a little disappointed in her answer. Even though it would never happen, I'd had this small twinge of hope that if something ever  _did_  occur between us, I could maybe be the first... But whatever. It didn't matter anyway because nothing was going to happen, so I tried to shake it off.

I rememebered that she asked me a question and I racked my brain for the answer. "Um, no, I'm not either." I played with my fingers and looked away from her.

"Is that a bad thing?" She squinted. "You kinda seem upset about it."

"It's just..." I tried to find the right word. "Complicated, I guess."

"How?"

I didn't know how to reply because I really didn't want to get into my sex life with her (or anyone for that matter.)

"Do you not want to talk about it?"

I shook my head and clutched a pillow to my chest. "Not really."

"That's alright. Toss me my phone and I'll ask you another question instead." I was worried that she would want to pry but she didn't. And I was greatful.

I tossed the phone in her direction and she caught it with both hands and brought it eye-level to herself. "Okay. Who knows you the best?"

"Oh geez. You're probably going to think I'm insane when I say this, but I  _sincerely_  think that person would be you."

"What? Are you serious?"

"Yeah."

"But I've only known you for a few short months. And, I mean, yeah, we do a lot of shrug together but I don't feel like I know all that much about you. There  _has_ to be somebody else."

"There really is nobody else," I told her. "You're right; I've known you for the least amount of time, but it doesn't matter. You've seen me at my worst and you know my fears and the things that I can't tell anybody else. I'm telling you, it's you. You're the only person I don't isolate myself entirely from."

She looked down at her lap and played with her fingers before I noticed a small smile gracing her lips as she looked back up at me. "Am I really?"

I nodded and bit my cheek a little shyly, which was definitely not like me. Sure, I was usually quieter than louder, a listener over a talker, but  _shy_? I wasn't shy.

"Believe it or not, I actually don't know what to say right now."

I shrugged. "It is what it is. It doesn't require a reply."

"Okay," she smiled.

_I love it when she smiles. It makes me want to radiate sunshine over everything in the entire world._

"Can I ask you one more thing?" I nodded and she continued. "I feel like you can tell a lot about a person by the way they answer a question like this."

"Okay, go for it."

"Alright, which is more important to you? Money or love?"

I could tell she was determined to hear my answer and I almost had to laugh at the way her eyes were glued to mine as though she were trying to read the answer through staring into my soul.

"That's easy," I shrugged nonchalantly. "Love. I already have money. People think that money equals happiness, which it did at first for me, but it eventually becomes worthless when you start blowing it on shit you want because at some point, you have nothing left to get. Love doesn't run out, though, so I'd take love over money anyday."

"Beautifully spoken," Charlie grinned.

"What about you? Which is more important to you?"

"Love. But for different reasons than you."

"Care to elaborate?"

She was quiet for a moment and then settles on a share of her head. "No, it's... complicated."

I nodded in understanding. "That's fine. At least we know one more thing we have in common."

"Among many others."

"Yeah, and hopefully more to come."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi everybody(: How are you guys? School going well? Work? Life? Everything is pretty good on my end. Hopefully it's the same for you!
> 
> I would like to thank you all very much for your support on Excelsior. I'm sorry that this had to be a filler chapter, but the next two will be more eventful, I promise. I'm very happy with how the story is turning out as a whole, though! Please let me know if there is anything you would like to see more of or maybe something new! I could always use more ideas!
> 
> I'd like to dedicate this chapter to one of my very best internet friends @J_Eyeheart! Her support of me is never-ending and I can't thank her enough for everything she has done for me. She is also the very talented artist who created the cover for this story! She's brilliant I tell ya! Go show her some love on Twitter if you can(:
> 
> If you would like to contact me outside of Wattpad, you can reach me on Twitter at @KissesFromZiall!
> 
> Cute as a button, every single one of you(:
> 
> -Mia <3


	15. Chapter 13

*Charlie's POV*

 

(9:18 a.m.)

**To: Harry**

**From: Charlie**

**Morning sleepyhead(: How does lunch sound today? I'll buy this time. Let me know x**

 

(10:57 a.m.)

**To: Harry**

**From: Charlie**

**Rise and shine, Harold. My lunch break is in half an hour so if you do wanna do lunch, let me know before then pleeease(: Would love your company x**

 

(1:02 p.m.)

**To: Harry**

**From: Charlie**

**Are you mad at me? You haven't opened my messages all day... Text me soon so I know if it's okay to come over after work or not. If you're mad maybe it's not such a good idea**

 

(3:42 p.m.)

**To: Harry**

**From: Charlie**

**I'm worried. Please assure me that you're just in one of your infamous Harry moods and you dont wanna talk to anyone right now. I wanna make sure everything's alright.**

 

(5:00 p.m.)

**To: Harry**

**From: Charlie**

**I'm on my way over right now. I'm really concerned about you, Harry...**

 

Who knows? Maybe he was just really busy and didn't have the time to check his phone. Maybe he was taking a really long nap and had slept through all of my messages. Maybe he was in the midst of running errands and had forgotten his phone at home. I mean, all of these ideas were feasible possibilities, but for some reason my stomach felt queasy and unsettled about the whole situation because none of them sounded  _right_. You had to see things through my eyes; Harry was my friend and whether he knew it or not, I cared about him intensely and as a friend, it was my job to ensure his happiness and healthiness was in tact.

Still, though. He could be  _totally_  fine. I could be completely overreacting in regards to his unresponsiveness. Who knows? Luckily though, Harry's house was favorably ten minutes from my work, so the trek from point A to point B wasn't nearly as stressful as it would have been if he lived on the complete other side of the city or something. However, London traffic was an unfortunate and essentially unavoidable dilemma when it came to maneuvering around the city by automobile. It worried me that maybe if Harry  _wasn't_  okay I would be too late in finding out... All I could hope for was an easy explanation for why he was not answering me.

When my car finally pulled into his driveway, I checked the time to find that it was only twenty minutes past five.

_Good! Great! I'm here now! And... would you look at that? His car's here too! That's a good sign, right?_

I pulled my keys out of the ignition and hopped out of my vehicle. My body was on autopilot the second my feet made contact with the ground. They lead me up the slanted driveway and onto his porch to the front door of his house. I raised my knuckles and knocked a couple of times, but he didn't answer. I thought that maybe it hadn't been loud enough, so I tried it again. I pulled my jacket tight around myself as I waited for him to come and open the door. A small breeze picked up around me and blew my loose hair every which-way. When there was no response the second time, I thought that maybe he would be able to hear the doorbell if he couldn't hear me knocking. When the results proved worthless for the third time I considered that he really might not be home. I tried convincing myself that that was what it was, but I could just  _feel_  that wasn't the case. He was home. I knew he was. Where would he possibly go without his car?

An attempt at opening the front door ended in my dismay as it turned out to be locked.  _GRRRRRRR._ I walked back down his driveway and scanned the street to see if there was anybody in sight before wandering my way to the back of the house where I prayed I'd find the patio door unlocked instead. Of course I had no such luck.

Bloody _Hell._ Fate just really had it in for me today, didn't it.

I called Harry's phone again but the rings descended into his voice mail for the zillionth time. And it was then that I told myself it was time to give up. For whatever had happened, he must have just really needed some space. Deep down, though, I didn't think that sounded  _anything_  like him. He was like me when it came to coping with things. He told himself he didn't need anybody but he  _did_ , and that's why I didn't couldn't give in so easily. So I contemplated the situation further. I considered throwing something heavy at the glass doors to break my way inside but then I realized that that would be fucking _insane_ and also very illegal. Plus, I didn't exactly have the money to pay for damage and repairs. Minutes upon minutes passed and my hope was beginning to falter until I noticed the window to the left of the patio door was cracked about two inches or so...

I walked over to it and tested the screen, but it didn't even budge. A quick rummage through my purse verified I didn't have anything to help my pry open the screen either. All I could do was will myself to muster as much strength as humanly possible and try and try again to open it. I tossed my bag to the side and sucked in a deep breath as I placed my fingertips under the small lip that just barely jutted out an centimeter. I used all of the muscle power in my body to push it upwards. The screen moved a smidge and my adrenaline was coursng throught me at the small achievement. I kept pushing it open until the space was wide enough that I could stick my hand under it. I finally shoved it up and out of the way, mentally cheering as the window slid all the way open directly afterwards.

I rubbed irritatedly at my now sore hands ( _fuck you you piece of shit screen_ ) as I peered through the window into Harry's flat. Fortunately I didn't see him anywhere in sight so I took that moment as my golden opportunity to enter the house.

 _At least I'm not breaking and entering_ , I thought to myself.  _Just entering._

I proceeded to lug myself through the window frame head first, then my my torso and then my legs. My palms were curled around the edge of the counter top as I pulled my entirety through the kitchen window. Once fully inside, I carefully hopped off the counter and closed the window behind me, locking it in place.

I exhaled a long sigh of relief at finally being inside (even if the way I did it had been a  _liiiiiittle_  bit crazy... okay, a lot a bit). I glanced around the kitchen; there were dirty dishes in the sink, but other than that, there was really nothing to take specific note of. There was no trace of anything misplaced or out of the ordinary. His living room was the same way. The only thing unusual to me was that the television was off when normally it was on and Harry wasn't sitting there in the room. He was always there.

"Harry!" I called, but there was no reply. "Harry, are you here?"

My eyes wandered mindlessly around the room until they landed on the staircase behind me that lead up to the second floor. I'd never been upstairs before, but I did have distinct knowledge of Harry's bedroom being up there.

In a way, I really did feel bad for invading his privacy like this,don't get me wrong, but all I could think about was what if something had happened to him, like,  _really_  happened to him? Only a few months ago he was admitted into the hospital's care for unspeakable reasons. As much as I wanted to say I trusted Harry, I didn't when it came to him being by himself. Suicidal thoughts don't just disappear in the blink of an eye, there's an entire process that goes with it and I knew for certain that Harry wasn't there yet. He still struggled with himself... a lot. So tell me, how could I not be concerned for his well-being?

I dropped my purse on the sofa and toed off my shoes before slowly making my way up the staircase to continue my search for Harry Styles. I came to realize the second floor was virtually just one long hallway with doors that lined the walls. I was pleasantly surprised that the floorboards didn't squeak like the ones in my house as I quietly made my way down them. Then again, Harry practically lived in a mansion, a new one at that, so it shouldn't have been too remarkable.

I peered into each room I passed, curious of all the new places I'd never seen; one of the doorways lead into a bathroom and the rest lead into bedrooms, all of them bigger than my entire house alone I'm pretty sure. At the right end of the hall was the only closed door. I approached it, trusting it to be the one place Harry was. I silently pleaded that he would be inside as I knocked on the hallow wooden door. No surprise, I was provided with no response. I turned the knob on the door and pushed it open slightly to peek inside.

My eyes had no choice but to adjust to the pitch darkness of the room. I wondered why the curtains in this room were drawn shut when the curtains in the other rooms were open and granting the passage of sunlight through the windows. I could hardly make out a thing in this room.

"Harry?" I whispered softly, almost as if I would break the gloomy blackness with the sound of my voice if I spoke too audibly.

A light shuffle could be heard from where I was standing. "Go away," a raspy voice droned.

I flinch in astonishment at hearing his voice.  _Bingo._  I pushed the door open further and stood there until things slowly started taking shape. An assortment of furtniture was spread throughout the room, dressers pushed against the walls and a loveseat and ottoman pushed off to one side of the room facing a flat screen television screen anchored eye-level to the wall. A king bed on the far wall was situated between two large windows. Atop the bed was a mess of covers and pillows, but without a doubt, there was a definite figure curled up beneath it all.

I sucked in a sharp breath. "Oh my, God, Harry." I was about to step foot into the room when his deep voice interrupted me.

"Stop," he demanded. His voice was low and scratchy.

"Wh-what? Why? What's going on?" I began maneuvering myself through his room, stepping over clothes lying disheveled on the floor.

"Did you not hear me?" he strained. "Get  _out_  of here." His back was to me as he spoke and the only thing I could see was a tuft of dark, messy hair.

My heart started beating fast in my chest as I realized that something wasn't right. "Harry, what's wrong. Why are you here all alone in the dark?" He didn't answer me and I was genuinely becoming frightened. "Harry, please answer me. I'm rea-"

"GET THE _FUCK_  OUT OF MY HOUSE, CHARLIE. I TOLD YOU TO GO AWAY ONCE AND I'M NOT GOING TO FUCKING ASK YOU AGAIN! I DON'T WANT YOU HERE," he shouted, shattering the silence surrounding us both and leaving me frozen and wide-eyed. My initial reaction was to be frightened and hurt, but after I came to my senses, anger took over.

 _How_ dare _he speak to me like that._

"I go out of my way to check on you all day and  _that_  is the first thing you say to me?" I'd be lying if I said I wasn't battered by his words. It was like he'd taken a knife to my heart and personally shredded it himself. Tears welled in my eyes and my heart sunk low in my chest as I said the only thing I could think to say to him. "Well fuck you, Harry," I spat. " _Fuck you._ I hope you're happy."

I heard him grind his teeth in frustration.

"And you know what?" I balled my hands into tight fists as my anger towards him flourished. "The next time you need somebody to come and help you when you're at your lowest, you can call somebody else because I sure as hell won't come." And with that, I turned swiftly on my heels and stormed out of the room, making a point of slamming the door shut behind me.

I stood for a solid minute with my back to the door while collecting my bundle of thoughts. The suffocating silence of the house suddenly made me feel claustrophobic in the narrow hallway. My weight suddenly became a little too much for my feet to carry so I ended up on the floor against Harry's bedroom door. All I could think was:

_I feel so violated._

_I feel so_ used _._

 _I can't believe he had the courage to disrespect me like that_.

My eyes stung as I pulled my knees up to my chest to bury my face in them before the tears officially started flowing. It felt like somebody had set my heart ablaze in my chest as I sat there and wallowed in the harsh words of _'GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE, CHARLIE'_  and _'I DON'T WANT YOU'._

Not even a minute had passed before an unmistakable cry erupted from his room. I held my breath and a couple of seconds later I heard it again only much more prominent this time than before.

" _YOU FUCKING IDIOT,_ " he screamed at himself. " _YOU DESERVE TO BE ALONE._ "

I lifted my head up and wiped at my eyes. I turned and pressed my ear to the door to listen as he muffled pitiful yelps and sobs into his pillows. After several minutes of hearing him in such a gut-wrenching state, I felt like I was physically in pain. I couldn't just sit here while he tore himself apart from the inside out. I managed to pull myself back together despite my deep-routed rage towards him at the moment. Harry's careless words had cut deep, but that was not nearly a good enough reason to leave him here alone like this. He was still a flight risk and a potential danger to himself. I couldn't just  _leave_ him.

My hands shook a bit as I stood up and turned the knob on the door again. Once opened, his cries were even worse than I'd imagined. He was fighting helplessly for breath as he wept into the sheets. I took a long, deep breath and trudged over to the place the distressed boy lied in a heap among the disarray of bedding. I grabbed his covers and carefully slid underneath them and into the empty spot beside him in bed. His immediate warmth engulfed me as I scooted over to him. I placed a hand on his arm and he instinctively pulled away until he realized it was just me.

"Harry, hey. Shh. It's okay." I hushed him as he continued to wail. "It's alright."

"I'm sorry," he choked out. "I'm so so sorry. I didn't mean to say a-any of that. Please don't go. I don't want to be alone. I w-want you here. I'm so  _sorry_." The fragility and brokenness of his voice nearly sent me over the edge myself.

"I know, I know," I cooed, rubbing his back as he shook under my touch. "Don't worry. You're going to be okay." I encouraged him to turn over and face me. Even in the poorly lit room, I could see the various tear stains running down his cheeks as he looked up at me with glassy eyes that looked like they could shatter in a matter of seconds.

"No I'm n-not," he sobbed, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. "I'm not okay. I'm never going to be okay." He coughed wetly into the pillow neath his head.

I bit my cheek to keep from crying. "Hey, don't say that. Come here."

I pushed myself up into a sitting position, pressing my back to the wall as I pulled him to me, his tears not ceasing for a second as I cradled him against me. He slung an arm around my legs in a tight grip and buried his face into my abdomen as he cried. I ran my fingers through his tussled hair to comfort him and held him close as he released every pent up emotion inside of him. All I could think was how complete I felt as he beckoned me for comfort and wrapped himself around me like he would refuse to ever let me go. His heat kept us both warm as we lied still under the covers and soaked in the presence of each other. A strong pang of guilt surged through me as I remembered what I'd said to him during my fit of rage.

"I'm so sorry," I murmured quietly, sweeping his hair back off his forehead and gently tugging at the occasional knot. "I know I told you I wouldn't come for you, but I would. I always would."

"I kn-know you would," he expelled through a shaky breath.

"I'm so sorry," I apologized and I really did mean it. It was such a selfish thing for me to say when I knew he didn't have a lot of people in his life to turn to. We'd both said things we didn't truly mean and we were both remorseful for it. Words stung, especially when they came from those you loved.

_Did I just...?_

Harry's once laboured breath was beginning to even out and his heart rate was slowing to match its regular pace. I could feel his patterned pulse against my skin and the wetness of tears soaking my shirt each time he blinked. The small droplets slid from the wet corners of his eyes down his beautifully articulated face. To look at somebody as perfect as he was was nearly a crime. One should have to pay money to experience the true beauty of somebody with such plump, curvaceous lips, dimples that you could practically dive into, and eyes that could put emeralds to shame. It was almost unfair to be in the presence of somebody so flawless.

"You know we're going to have to talk about this," I told him, plowing my fingertips through his soft-as-a-feather hair.

His eyes closed in dissatisfaction. "I know."

"Do you want to get it over with now?"

"What do you want to know?"

"I want to know why you haven't replied to anything of mine today. I invited you to lunch and you never responded and then I texted you and called you a few other times throughout the day and you never answered. I was worried about you and so I came over after my shift to make sure everything was alright, but everything's obviously not. What happened to you and why didn't you tell me about it? It's not safe for you to spend all day like this. Things won't ever get better if this is what you do."

His eyebrows creased. "Jesus Christ, you don't think I  _wanted_  this to happen, do you?"

I inhaled a long breath. "Of course not, Harry," I soothed leaning my head back against the wall and staring up at the ceiling. "I just want to know what triggered you."

"Everything," he said quietly. His eyelids fluttered open a few moments later and his index finger started absentmindedly tracing shapes on my thigh.

"What do you mean?"

He sighed, but it wasn't an irritated or a troubled sigh, it was more of an expression of weariness. "I mean that I sometimes just hurt. I have to endure the pain of waking up every single day to an empty bed and an empty house and an empty life. I have nothing to look forward to anymore, just long days of sitting home by myself. It doesn't make me feel any better that I have clear reminders-" He paused for a minute and I looked down to see his eyes filling again. "Clear reminders on my skin of how fucking much I hate who I am. It's so hard Charlie. So hard." His voice was hoarse as he spoke the last couple of words.

A knot formed in my throat at his response. I twisted a long curl around my finger and brought my thumb down to wipe the falling tears from his face. He didn't pull away. He just gripped the loose fabric of my pants in his fists and nestled his cheek further into my stomach.

We sat in silence for a long time. I wanted to tell him so many things, but what was the use? Whatever I said was just going to go right over his head anyway.

"Nothing I say will help you, will it?"

"No." He shook his head. "Not this time."

My heart deflated and I closed my eyes in defeat. "What can I do?"

"Be here," was his only response and I nodded.

"I can do that," I breathed.

And I did. I laid with him for  _hours_  in the thick blackness of his bedroom, under the weight of his arm that protectively surrounded my lower half. He slipped in and out of consciousness multiple times and I'm pretty sure I did too, but I couldn't be sure. We only exchanged a few words here and there, but none of it held much substance. Harry's light snores were the only things that could be heard besides the rustling of bedsheets whenever him or I shifted. My heart ached for him. I wished he could recognize what a perfect person he was to me.

When it finally got to be too late, I knew I was going to have to leave soon. My cat was waiting at home for me to be catered to and it had also been eight hours since I'd eaten anything.

"Harry," I whispered. He hummed in response and his finger twitched slightly against my thigh. "Harry, I have to go. I'm sorry but I can't stay here all night."

"It's okay," he said groggily and I assumed I'd just woken him up.

"Listen to me," I started softly. "I need to know I can trust leaving you by yourself."

"You can."

"How do I know that?"

"You just have to. I won't _... do_  anything if that's what you mean. I'm alright."

"Are you, sure?"

"Yeah. I'm okay."

"Okay," I agreed reluctantly. I slid out from my spot beneath Harry, but it proved to be more of a struggle than I thought it would be because he was basically completely on top of me. I placed a pillow under his head in leiu of me and tucked the blanket around his body again. I glimpsed at his face but he was already staring up at me with barely open eyes. "If I go, you have to promise me something. You have to promise me that you will text me the minute you wake up tomorrow morning."

"I will," he promised.

"And you have to promise me that no matter what happens, you'll find a way to pull yourself out of bed tomorrow and  _do_  something, anything."

"Okay," he said and I faintly smiled at him through the dark.

"Get some more sleep," I instructed and stood up from the edge of the bed to make my way out of the bedroom, quietly shutting the door behind me with a  _click_. I descended down the stairs to grab my purse and shoes and then proceeded to leave out the front door and start home.

 

. . .

 

"Sir Paw," I whispered as I lied wide awake in bed that night. My cat was curled up in a tight ball on my chest, purring sleepily and flipping his tail every so often. "Sir Paw, I'm in love." His head lolled to the side as I scratched behind his ears. He wasn't paying a smidge of attention to me, but it's not like he could understand me anyway. "I'm so utterly in love. Believe me, he's the most beautiful boy on earth and his name is Harry Styles."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hellooooooooooooooooooo! How do you guys feel about this chapter? I love writing chapters like this where Charlie and Harry are really close and there's a lot of emotion and ugh, I just love it!
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading. The next chapter is a pretty eventful chapter as well and I know you guys will love it!
> 
> Cute as a button, every single one of you(:
> 
> -Mia<3


	16. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I apologize in advance for this chapter if it turns out really shitty. It's a lot longer than most chapters and so it was hard to proofread. Enjoy, lovelies xx(:

*Harry's POV*

 

"So what  _exactly_  are you saying?"

I rubbed my temples with my palms and leaned forward slightly in my chair, staring at the grotesque carpet floor beneath my feet. There was no way to describe how I was feeling. It was too complex for even my own understanding. I could not physically put my thoughts into words.

Mr. Ransick clicked his pen and I felt his eyes on me. "It's fine. I get it. Sometimes you don't know how to explain things."

"Yeah," I concurred.

"So I guess my real question is what are you doing here?"

"I just need... advice."

He half-smiled at my answer and I did everything I could to not roll my eyes at him. "I could've guessed that," he said. "What do you need advice _about_?"

I hesitated. "I just... I feel like I'm about to lose my mind."

Mr. Ransick's eyebrows furrowed and I could tell he was slightly confused. "What are you talking about?"

I exhaled a long sigh and kneaded my fingers through my hair, pushing it backwards off my forehead.  _Fidgeting. A nervous tick._

"I'm talking about what feels like a thousand things happening to me at once. For starters, my boss just  _had_  to call me up yesterday and tell me that he needs me back for work soon and that I need to start figuring out what I'm going to do to prepare for it." I wiped my sweaty palms on my knees and looked everywhere in the room but him. I was anxious and I couldn't seem to sit still no matter how hard I tried to. "I don't know. I'm kind of freaking out. I don't know if I'm ready-- or if I'll ever be ready-- to go back to that. I'm scared everything's going to happen all over again, that one day I'm going to wake up and I'm going to let myself fall apart."

"What makes you think you'll fall apart again?"

"I'm not saying I will, I'm saying I'm  _worried_  I will. You and I both know I don't have all of my shit together yet." I bit at my thumbnail. "What's going to happen if I get back out there and it ends the same way as before?"

"Do you like being a musician?" he asked me seriously.

I was surprisingly quick to respond. "Yes. I mean, I love it with every fiber of my  _being_. It's my favorite thing in the world, but I-I don't know if I can handle things if they're just going to result with me bleeding out on my bathroom floor again." I pinched my eyes closed to shake the resurfacing memories from that night out of my head. "It's so much harder than you think it is."

I glanced up at Mr. Ransick and waited for a reply, but for the first time since meeting him, nothing came. My eyes narrowed and I grew slightly uneasy.

"So, are you going to just leave me hanging here, then?"

He shook his head lightly in regret. "I really don't know what to tell you on this one, Harry. That is a decision that comes down to being one hundred percent up to you. You know you better than I know you. You know your limitations. If you don't think that you can handle it, you might want to rethink doing it because you're safety and well-being is more important than anything at this point. But if you think you can do it, then I say you go for it because you just told me it's something you love doing. You're the only thing holding you back."

I closed my eyes and sighed, slightly disappointed that the one time I actually wanted his opinion on something, he couldn't give it to me.  _Why did this have to be so hard._

"You still have time to figure it all out, though," he added quickly. "It's a big decision, I know. You don't have to decide right now. But in the meantime, tell me what else is on your mind."

I inhaled a deep breath to collect myself.  _God, where do I even start with this?_

"Why don't we talk about Charlie?" he suggested and immediately I went to the defense.

"What? Why?" I asked almost _too_  quickly.

"Well, why not?"

I racked my brain for an answer besides  _she's none of your business_  because that would be a little rude I think, even in my professional opinion.

"Because she has nothing to do with it," I sputtered.

Mr. Ransick half-laughed. "Really? She has nothing to do with how you're feeling?"

I diverted my eyes and played with my fingers. "No, not really."

"You're lying."

"No I'm not."

"The more you lie to yourself, the harder it is to admit the truth about things. You  _like_  her."

"No, but I  _hate_  you," I replied mock-enthusiastically.

He smirked. "No you don't."

I rubbed my eyes boredly. "Yeah, I  _do._ "

I really didn't. I couldn't hate Mr. Ransick. After coming to terms that he was actually brought to me to help and be there for me, I knew I couldn't hate him. And as much as we disagreed on (literally) everything, he was helpful and had gotten me through a lot. But I  _really_  didn't want to discuss Charlie at the moment. There was too much of my mind that was consumed by Charlie, but there was also too much of myself that I had invested into her that I wasn't quite ready to make sense of yet, which is why his next question through me a bit off guard.

"Do you love her, then?"

His words caught me by surprise and my mouth opened, but nothing came out. It took me a couple seconds to wrap my head around what he was saying before I forced out a, "No."

"Harry."

"I  _don't_ love Charlie."

"And I  _don't_  believe you."

"You don't have to believe me!"

"You're lying to me and you're lying to yourself."

I felt my anger rising and I was struggling to keep it under control. "Just. Drop it."

"Fine," he said. I released a long breath and leaned my head back to stare at the ceiling above me. "But I want to try something new," he told me.

 _Oh no._  "Try what?" I sighed.

"An exercise."

"I haaate exercises."

"You haaate everything," he countered. I was prepared to argue with him, but his point was valid and honest, so I held my tongue for once. He cleared his throat and said, "Your problem is that you over think  _everything_ , Harry."

I wasn't even slightly intrigued to hear his reasoning behind his statement, so I responded with a defensive, "I do not."

"Yes you do," he shot back. "Every time I ask you a question, you can't ever just give me a direct answer. You either avoid it or you sit there and contemplate it. It's every time."

I narrowed my eyes, slightly vexed, although I shouldn't have been. "I do  _not,_ " I repeated and I denied it as many times as he tried to convince otherwise.

"If you weren't so damn stubborn, Harry, you'd see it too."

I threw my hands up in the air. "What does it even matter if I think about things?! Don't you want me to be safe?"

"Here's why it matters," he explained. "Thinking things over and over thinking things are two _entirely_  different things. You need to be more impulsive and not so deliberate about everything."

"But I thought acting on impulse was a bad thing."

He shrugged. "It can be. You just have to determine the difference between what things are good and what things are bad. Ever heard of the Three Second Rule before?"

"I know the  _Five_  Second Rule for when food falls on the floor."

He chuckled. "Yeah, it's a little different from that. I'm talking about impulsiveness, so instead of over-thinking everything-"

"I don't over-think-"

"-You give yourself a three second grace period to think before pursuing. It's more of an instinctive sort of thing, but it's safe if you use it right." I grimaced at the idea and he scolded me. "Don't make that face. Just try it, okay? It might work."

I rolled my eyes. "I don't even know why I come here. You and I just disagree on everything."

"Yeah, but I'm usually right, aren't I?" I didn't answer him because he knew as well as I did that he was right the moajority of the time. "So let's try it. I'm going to ask you some questions and you're going to give me an answer. I'll just think of them as I go. Ready?"

"This is annoying."

"Shut up. Are you ready?"

"Sure..."

"Okay, what is your favorite season?"

I sat back firmly in my chair and imagined rain clouds casting over the sky-scraping city in the springtime, vibrant, colorful flowers blooming in the summer, autumn leaves crunching beneath my footsteps, and a thick cloak of coldness surrounding me in the winter months. I nodded when I determined which was my favorite, all the while mentally counting down from three in my head. I answered, "Winter", when the imaginary time limit was up.

"Good. Next one. Would you rather have no arms or no legs?"

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. Three seconds."

"I don't really know, like-"

"Two seconds."

"Ugh, I hate thi-"

"One second."

"Um, um, errr, LEGS," I pushed out quickly, getting a little too caught up in the moment for my personal taste.

"How come?"

"Because I'm sure I could find ways around not having legs, but I use my hands for everything in my life."

"Perfect. So are you understanding how this works now?"

"Yeah, but it's so  _annoying_."

"You're quite the optimist," he teased. "You'll get used to it. It's easier when I'm not here just throwing questions at you randomly. Let's do one more."

" _Uggggh._ "

"It's only one more!"

" _Uggggggggggh_."

"Stop being a whiny ass and at least  _try_  to work with me on this."

"Just goooo," I moaned. I'd half-expected him to ask me another stupid question like, 'are you a dog person or a cat person?' or 'what did you want to be when you were growing up?' or 'do you prefer tea or coffee?', but knowing Mr. Ransick, I should have guessed that  _deep down_  that he wasn't going to offer any of those things. He was a schemer and him and I both knew it.

"Are you in love with Charlie?" he asked me and _still_  the question threw me off guard. My throat closed up involuntarily and for a moment I didn't know what to say to him.

"You said you'd drop it," I managed.

"Well I'm not going to. You have three seconds. Go." He was determined.

I shook my head. "No. Stop! You said that I don-"

"Three."

"That's so unfair to me! You-"

"Two."

"Mr. Ransick, I swear to Go-"

" _One._ " He articulated the last word perfectly and more clearly than a summer's day and that's when I burst.

"FUCK YOU," I yelled at him in frustration, pounding my fists roughly on the armrests. I lent forward and covered my face with my hands. "Goddamn it, she's perfect. Of  _course_  I'm fucking in love with her. I'd be stupid not to be."

Mr. Ransick was silent for a long time, longer than he had ever been before and I though for a moment that maybe I had offended him with my outburst. It almost startled me when he spoke again, his tone so exasperatedly relieved it was like he'd been waiting an eternity to say the words.

"It's about damn time you admitted it _._ "

 

. . .

 

**To: Charlie**

**From: Harry**

**I'm up and about today, don't worry. I would love it if you came over after work, though. I've got a bit of a surprise. It's nothing big, but you might like it anyway x**

 

**To: Harry**

**From: Charlie**

**That's good to hear! Thanks for telling me you're better today(: I'm excited to see what the surprise is! My shift ends at 3:00 today so I can hopefully come a little earlier than usual... Hope you don't mind x**

 

**To: Charlie**

**From: Harry**

**Of course I don't mind. I'll see you then x**

 

. . .

 

I waited for what felt like  _hours_  for Charlie to get to my house. I hated waiting. I was horrible at it. I was one of the most impatient people you'd ever meet. I become all fidgety and antsy and mopey and can't sit in one place for more than ten seconds. But I guessed that was what happened when you had as bad of anxiety as I did.

Learning to cope with that problem sure as hell wasn't easy, especially since I had never gotten professional help when I was young. My mom never gave my sister and I the proper attention we needed as kids. I knew now that she should have done something to help me when maybe it could have been treated, but I was too young at the time to understand how my depression and such was affecting me. Maybe if I had gotten the assistance I'd needed I wouldn't have grown up to be so... me?

Lately I'd been stuck in this endless loop of sadness with occasional bursts of excitement here and there. It almost frightened me to say that it was always Charlie who was the one responsible for bringing out the best in me, but it was the truth. Ever since the first day I'd met her, that was the case between her and I. She never once gave up on me. Even after I'd treated her like shit for about half the time I was in the hospital, she somehow was always able to shrug me off and pull herself right back up with a smile on her face regardless of the situation. That's when I knew that she wasn't against me like most of the people in my life were. And if I hadn't realized that then, I sure as  _hell_  recognized it now.

I ended up spending the majority of my day (after I'd gotten home from Mr. Ransick's office that morning) awaiting Charlie's arrival. Waiting around like a puppy for its owner to return home reminded me too much of how unfulfilling my life actually was when I was alone, that I could spend hours waiting for somebody that I practically saw every single day to come and visit me. I felt a little pathetic, but at the same time, I used the time to my advantage; I got some things done around the house that I'd been meaning to get around to but never actually had the motivation to go through with.

I cleaned all of the dirty dishes in the kitchen sink (by hand, even though I _had_  a dishwasher and could have just as easily used that instead...), I washed all of my unclean laundry and organized the fresh clothes into my closet, which then lead me to want to clean out my  _entire_  closet that was full of shit that didn't fit me or I didn't need. You know how it goes.

At some point or another, I must have crashed because the next thing I remembered was the doorbell ringing and me waking up with my face shoved into my couch. I sat up slowly and rubbed my eyes with my palms. I nearly stumbled over when I got to my feet too quickly and my head began to spin, but I caught myself before I could.

My feet lead the way to my front door subconsciously I and proceeded to unlock it and pull it open. Slightly unprepared, a swarm of butterflies erupted in my stomach the instant my eyes traveled just over the figure of the girl in front of me, settling on the endearing sweetness of her face and locking on the most captivatingly beautiful eyes in the entire world, no doubt. It took everything in me to not melt into a puddle right then by just  _LOOKING_  at her.

I had it so bad for her. I had it  _so_  bad.

I bit the inside of my cheek and half smiled, leaning against the entryway as I kept my eyes glued to hers. "Hey," I said weakly, my voice wavering a bit.  _Christ, Harry. Get it together._

Charlie blinked as her eyes cast down and she tried to resist a grin. "Hi," she greeted. Her voice was soft and quiet, borderline shy and very unCharlie-like.

My eyebrows furrowed curiously. "You alright?"

She nodded assuringly and looked up to me again. She shifted her weight to her other foot and I felt her eyes carefully absorb every inch of my face before she spoke again. "I'm just really happy you seem to be in one piece today. Last night wasn't so..."

"Yeah," I finished for her, rubbing the back of my neck. "I know."

"Yeah..."

We stood for a few moment awkward seconds before my eyes fled from hers and I stepped out of the middle of the doorway to allow her passage into my house. The scent of her perfume as she passed me overwhelmed my senses. It screamed _Charlie_ to me, but, then again, everything screamed  _Charlie_  to me. All I could think about was  _her_  and how much I really did think about her on a regular basis, and suddenly I became very aware of how rapidly my heart was beating in my chest. Her mere  _presence_  was intoxicating and for some reason, my head felt all dizzy and my body warm and my fingertips numb as I stared at her. It was like she had this power to make me feel every single feeling at once simply because she was...  _Charlie_.

I fucking _loved_  Charlie.

Everything was eerily quiet as we stood there. We said nothing. It was like we didn't know  _what_  to say, or perhaps how to phrase it. I could tell her thoughts were still lingering on my episode last night and I knew my thoughts were drifting to how much I wanted to just  _kiss her for god's sake_. It got to the point that I thought we'd both be swallowed up whole by the silence, but almost as though she was thinking the same thing, she swooped in to break the silence.

"God, Harry," she breathed in almost painfully and I knew whatever she was going to say was going to be serious. "You really have no fucking clue how happy I am to see that you're okay." And before I could even think to say something in response, she had her arms securely around my waist and she was pulling me into a hug, resting her cheek against my chest and squeezing her eyes shut as she embraced me fully. It was almost automatic when I wrapped my arms around her in return, like I knew it was the right thing to do, like I knew she would feel better if I reciprocated.

I lightly pressed a long kiss to her hairline and rested my chin atop her head. "Hey, stop that. I'm okay now. I told you that," I assured her with a squeeze.

"I didn't get a wink of sleep last night," she admitted. "I was so worried that maybe..."

I closed my eyes guiltily because I knew what she was thinking; she was thinking that I'd hurt myself.

A quiet, "I'm sorry," was all I could muster and  _God_  did I feel like shit.

Charlie shook her head anyway and clutched the back of my shirt lightly in her fingertips as her eyelashes fluttered against my chest. "It's okay, Harry. It's not your fault."

I knew she was only trying to justify what had happened and that she was probably being honest in her opinion, but I was prepared to tell her  _yes, it_ is _my fault because I'm a fucking screwed up mess and I physically could not stop myself from having a mental breakdown._ However, I knew if I were to say that, she would get even more upset than she already was and then I'd feel like the bad guy for making things worse and...

You see where this is going.

So all I said was, "Okay," a seemingly sufficient reply for the situation, but I didn't let her go until she let go of me, her grip around my waist finally loosening as she leaned her head back to look up at me. I pulled back slightly to see her face and smiled despite her watery eyes watching mine. I didn't want waterworks. I was okay now and that was all that mattered.

"I appreciate you thinking about me," I said truthfully. "And I can tell you're still not one hundred percent content with what happened, so how about I make us each a cup of tea to atone for it."

Charlie laughed and my smile only widened when she tilted her head back and flashed her perfectly straight, white teeth in my direction.

"You know, I could really use some tea right about now," she said amusingly.

"Well of course you do. Because mine is the best in the world, right?"

"Oh, don't flatter yourself," she teased and sneaked one last squeeze before finally releasing me and pulling me into the kitchen behind her.

 

. . .

 

"Okay, so promise you won't get mad at me?"

"Why would I get mad at you?"

"Because I know how you don't really like people spending money on you if they don't have to, but I really wanted to get these for you so just don't be mad."

"Okay, I promise I won't be mad."

I tapped the spot on the sofa next to me, implying I wanted Charlie to accompany me. She set her teacup on the coffee table before plopping down onto the vacant space and scooting so she was closer to me.

If I couldn't keep my eyes off of her before, I  _definitely_  couldn't stop myself from staring at her now; her body now adorned my _OBSESSION_  crew neck sweatshirt. I had given it to her for the time being so that she wouldn't have to lounge around in her work uniform for the rest of the day since she'd just come from there. She'd also changed into a pair of her own jeans that she'd left here a few weeks ago when she spent the night at my house, but I could care less about that. It was the fact that she had on  _my_  sweatshirt that was driving me crazy. I wanted for her to wear my clothes all the time. I wanted her to spend all of her time with me. I wanted to kiss her and tell her how much she meant to me every single day. But I couldn't just _do_  that and neither could she because it was never going to happen. The boundaries were already set and I couldn't just cross them.

She must have noticed me staring because she cleared her throat to catch my attention that was most certainly glued to her. I diverted my eyes so quickly that I honestly couldn't have made it any more obvious.

Still embarrassed for being caught in the act of staring, I glimpsed down at the (poorly wrapped), medium-sized box in my lap and moved to set it on Charlie's lap. "Okay, good. So, um, I hope you like what it is and I hope they're right because I'll be really pissed at myself if it's not what you wanted."

"I'm sure whatever it is, it'll be perfect," she smiled up at me, leaning her shoulder into mine.

"Maybe not. You never know." She sent me a look of disagreement, but it was true. "Just open it and see."

"Okay."

One of her fingers slid underneath the taped-down edge of the purple wrapping paper and tore off the covering to reveal the word _Timberland_  written across the top of the brown box. Charlie turned to me with a somewhat confused look, but I gestured for her to finish anyway. I watched her crumple up the rest of the wrapping paper and pop the lid off the top of the box. Her hands pulled out the stuffing inside until the underneath was exposed.

Her eyes scanned over the contents and her arms slumped back at her sides as she stared down in awe. She blinked a couple of times and my gaze fell to her lips as they turned upwards into a gentle smile.

"You bought me new work shoes?" she asked hopefully and I nodded. Her finger skimmed over the smooth side of one of the shoes and she was quiet for a long time before she murmured, almost unbelievably, "You really got these for me?"

I leaned into her side and set my chin on her shoulder, smiling proudly. "Yeah. Do you like them? Are they okay?"

"I absolutely  _love_  them, Harry" she breathed. "And I've seen these before. They're some of the best ones you can get. I always wanted a pair but I could never..." She trailed off absentmindedly.

"I know," I finished. "I really wanted to make sure that if you were going to get new work shoes, you were going to get the  _best_  ones."

She pulled one of them out of the box and examined it carefully in her hand. "What even made you think to get them?"

"The other pair you have looks so old and worn. Plus, you've told me before that you hated them and that you needed new ones, so I... um... I got you some. I hope you don't mind."

She leaned her head into my arm and fluttered her eyelids closed for a few seconds, a hint of a smile gracing her pink lips. "Thank you, Harry. Thank you so much. I honestly can't thank you enough."

"Your welcome," I said. "Anything for you."

And it was true. I would do just about anything for her because she'd proven she'd do just about anything for me in. If I could make her life easier in any ways possible I would. I didn't buy the shoes for her because I felt like it, I bought them because I knew she could use them and so she wouldn't have the pressure of finding and buying new ones, potentially ones that weren't great. These, I knew for a fact, were great.

"I'm going to try them on," she chimed, biting the inside of her cheek excitedly. She leaned down and slipped both on and stood up to walk around the living room with them on.

"Do they fit?" I inquired a little nervously.

"Yes," she beamed. "Perfectly. How did you know what size to get?"

"You went to the bathroom or something one time a few weeks ago and I checked the size of your other pair," I replied sheepishly, but her smile couldn't seem to falter as she walked in circles around the living room, kitchen, dining room, and then back to the living room again.

"God, thank you so much. You're amazing. I- wow, thank you. It means lot." She plopped back down onto the couch next to me and threw her arms around me in a tight hug. "What would I possibly do without you," she giggled.

 _What would I do without YOU,_ was the real question.

I chuckled and returned her embrace. "It's really not a problem, Love." She kissed my cheek and I about fucking  _died_. The simple contact of her lips pressed to my skin probably could have made me faint if I hadn't stopped myself.

Charlie pulled away and slipped off her shoes before standing again and walking over to where her old work shoes sat beside the door. I watched her pick them up without a second's thought and stroll into the kitchen to throw them in the garbage. When she returned she sighed in relief and said, "I've been waiting to do that for a long time," she laughed.

On her way back to returning to her seat beside me again, she grabbed her tea and tucked her feet beneath her as she settled back against the couch, radiating something a little more sprightly than before. After a quick search to find something to watch on the television, we agreed on  _The Princess Bride_ , a cinematically brilliant film, no doubt. Weirdly enough though, rather than paying attention to what was occuring onscreen, I found my mind wandering away from it.

Maybe it was just the fact that Charlie seemed so comfortable in my presence in my own household, snuggled up beside me in  _my_  sweatshirt that made me question why I had never been to  _her_  house. I found it a little strange that Charlie had been over here countless times, but I didn't even have a clue where she lived. While I had never really asked about it before, she had never exactly invited me before either. Although there could be no reason behind it, I was curious.

"Could I ask you something," I whispered seriously, nudging Charlie in the meantime. She turned to me and I could tell her eyes held a little bit of fear of what I might have to say. "Don't worry," I assured. "It's nothing bad... at least, I don't think so."

"Uh, yeah. Go ahead then."

"I don't mean to be nosy but I was wondering why I've, like, I don't know, like, why I've never been over to your house before." I watched her face to gauge her reaction in case I'd said something wrong, but she didn't really seem to have one, so I swallowed and continued. "Um, like, I don't know. You just come over to my house all the time-- which is fine. I mean, don't get me wrong-- but I'm just wondering why it is that I've never been over to yours before."

She bit her lip and gradually switched her gaze from mine back to the TV. "Well," she said carefully, "I guess I've never really thought about it. I mean, do you  _want_  to come over to my house?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I guess it doesn't really matter, but like, I know you have a cat and I like cats too and we're really great friends-- ( _in my mind I'd like to think we're more than that_ )-- and I don't know. I was just wondering if there was a reason for it."

Charlie inhaled a deep breath and nodded. "You can come over sometime if you want to then, I guess."

I cocked an eyebrow, unconvinced by her 'invitation'. "Really? Are you sure? Because you don't really seem to be all 'for' it." She shrugged, but said nothing, and so I crossed my arms in dissatisfaction. "Alright. Explain yourself. Why aren't you comfortable with me coming over to your house."

She sighed defeatedly and covered her face with her hands as she slumped in her spot. All I could think was,  _What could she possibly be hiding from me?_

"It really would not be that big of a deal, but it sort of is for me," she explained. "I'm just afraid that when you leave here and you see my house for the first time, you're going to be extremely unimpressed."

"What are you talking, about?"

"My home is so small and not even remotely nice. It just sort of pales in comparison to yours and it's embarrassing. I really just don't want you to think differently of me."

"Charlie... you cannot be serious."

"I'm  _dead_  serious. It's almost shameful to even compare you and I sometimes. You have so much nicer things than I do and it makes me self-conscious to even think of you seeing what-"

"Charlie, stop," I demanded. "Why would you even think that? Do you really think I'd judge you over something like  _that_?" She shrugged weakly and refused to make eye-contact with me, hinting that maybe she  _did_  think that. "Of all the people that you know in the world, do you really I'd be the one to judge somebody? I'm a literal mental case, Charlie. I have no place to judge."

She narrowed her eyes at me as though I'd offended her. "Don't say that. You're not mental."

"I'm a little mental. Admit it."

She shook her head defiantly. "No. I could never think something like that about you." My heart warmed a bit in my chest, but I ignored the feeling for the time being.

"Then you should know that I would never think something like that about  _you_  either, okay?"

I watched her eyes search my face skeptically, then I noticed how they lingered maybe one or two seconds longer on my mouth than anywhere else.

My heart thumped and all I could think was, _Did she just...?_

But then, _No. I'm imagining things._

She settled with an, "Okay," and a small trace of a smile on her face appeared when I grinned at her. This time though it was  _me_  who'd stared a little too long at her lips. She must have noticed too because she looked away quickly as though she hadn't seen.

I turned back to face the screen just in time to see Westley's and Inigo's sword fight initiating at the top of the towering cliff face. Inigo pushed Westley backwards into the stone wall as broken pieces of the rock broke off and fell over the edge, landing hundreds of feet at the bottom of the cliff.

"Do you think I could ask you something too?" Charlie asked me abruptly and I glanced over to already see her staring at me.

"Is it bad?"

She pondered the question for a moment. "No, I don't think so."

"Okay then. Go ahead."

"Alright, well, I was wondering if you had ever considered maybe, like, playing a song in front of me sometime. Like, it's not a big deal because you probably haven't, but I've thought about it a couple times and I've never heard you play before. I didn't want to look up anything by you because I didn't think that seemed fair in case you wanted me to hear you in person or something first. Um," her eyes wandered away from mine and locked onto an invisible spot on the coffee table. "I know that you told me a few weeks ago that you haven't played piano or guitar or anything in a long time, but if you ever  _did_  get back into it, I guess I'm asking if you'd let me hear something. It's okay if you say no. I understand. I just thou-" She stopped midway through her sentence and frowned. "What are you smiling at?"

"Nothing," I laughed, shaking my head. In reality, couldn't help but grin because she always seemed to overly explain herself at times like this, like she feared she would upset or infuriate me if she didn't explain her position well enough.

"Obviously it's something!" said Charlie, unamused. I dodged her question and she huffed again.

"Don't worry about it," I smiled, and I cut her off before she could argue with me more. "But to answer your question, I uh..." I rubbed the back of my neck and looked down at my lap. "I didn't tell you this, but..."

"But what?"

"I sorta already started playing again."

"Wait, what? Are you serious?" I nodded and her jaw dropped. "Why didn't you say anything?!"

"I didn't tell you about it because I wanted it to be a surprise. I wanted to take some time to refresh my memory and get used to playing before I did anything in front of anybody."

Her eyes softened and her bit at the inside of her cheek in thought. "Oh my, God, Harry. That really is incredible to hear you say. I'm really proud of you."

I tried to refrain from blushing, but I could bet a gazillion dollars that I'd failed. "Thank you. I've only been working on it for about a week or two, but I'm getting the hang of it again pretty well. It's just been so long since I've done anything..."

"You'll get used to it again," she encouraged. "It takes time."

 _Hopefully that'll be the case,_  I agreed silently to myself because honestly, before I started it up a few days ago, it had been months upon months since I'd played an instrument or even heard the resonance of my own voice in song. It was sort of a scary transition back into that sort of thing after not being involved in it for a while. It was like a step forward to becoming my former self (which still struggled a lot, but not to this extent.)

I had planned to leave the conversation at that and just return my attention back to the movie, but still I could see the excitement in Charlie's beautiful bronze eyes, so I considered taking a small risk for once and suggesting an alternative.

"Since you're here, maybe, um... maybe I could play something for you?"

"Now?" she asked. I nodded uncertainly, thinking she was upset for me suggesting it, but that turned out to not be the case when her face softened and her eyes brightened. "Really? You would do that?"

"Yeah, I mean, only if you wa-"

" _Yes,_ " she replied, not even waiting for me to finish. "Yes, God, I'd love it. But, only if  _you_  want to," she emphasized.

I smiled at her enthusiasm. "Well, I don't mind, so yeah. Let's do it."

I reached for the remote on the coffee table and paused the film. I held out my hands for Charlie when I stood up and pulled her up as she placed her palms in mine. She followed along behind me as I lead her over to the piano on the opposite side of the room. I took a seat on the piano bench and tapped the spot next to me when she hesitated to assure her that it was alright for her to sit there.

"I'm excited," she muttered quietly under her breath.

 _And I'm freaking out_ , I mentally replied.

"Do you care what I play?" I asked her as she sat down beside me on my left.

"No, of course not. Whatever you want!"

"Okay, I'll just do my favorite one to play on piano then. It's called  _Someone To Watch Over Me_  and it's by Frank Sinatra. Have you ever heard it?"

Charlie shook her head no and I was honestly a little relieved; there was never as much pressure in playing something that somebody didn't know because they had nothing to base your performance off of.

Still, I think Charlie could tell that I was nervous because she placed a hand on my shoulder and offered for me to do it another time if I wasn't comfortable doing it now. I told her no, and that I was fine, just a little nervous that it was my first time playing in front of somebody in such a long time. Plus, this wasn't just somebody, this was  _CHARLIE_. I couldn't blow it in front of her. I would feel like an idiot.

"It's okay," she cinched. "I know you'll do great. Don't worry if you mess up; I bet I won't even notice. I can't even play an instrument."

I sat for a long minute, just staring at the piano keys.  _Come on, Harry, you're fine,_ my conscience encouraged. _Just play the damn song already._

So, I counted down from three, clearing my throat and setting my hands over the first set of keys, as I got down to  _one_. "Alright," I said and took a deep breath in an attempt to console my pounding heart. Despite the nerves going hay-wire all over my body, a sudden burst of confidence came over me as my fingers drifted over the first few keys and the familiar tune rang out. I recognized the beginning of the song and it luckily gave me that extra push I needed to sing when the moment came.

 

" _There's a saying old says that love is blind,_

_Still we're often told, 'Seek and you shall find',_

_So I'm going to seek a certain girl I've had... in mind._ "

 

Okay, I was doing alright. I was playing all of the correct keys and I all of the words I was singing were correct. My voice was shaking slightly and I couldn't help that, but the only thing that mattered was that I was actually doing it.

 

" _Looking everywhere, haven't found her yet,_

_She's the big affair I cannot forget,_

_Only girl I ever think of with regret._ "

 

I just had to breathe now-- breathe and sing, breathe and sing. I was doing fine. I just needed to keep breathing.

 

" _I'd like to add her initial to my monogram,_

 _Tell me, where is the shepherdess for this lost lamb?_ "

 

I was still breathing, right?

 

" _There's a somebody I'm longing to see,_

_I hope that she turns out to be,_

_Someone who'll watch over me._

_I'm a little lamb who's lost in the wood,_

_I know I could always be good,_

_To one who'll watch over me._ "

 

I couldn't screw it up now. I would never forgive myself if I did. Everything was perfect so far. I couldn't stop now.

 

" _Although I may not be the man some,_

_Girls think of as handsome,_

_To her heart I carry the key._

_Won't you tell her please to put on some speed,_

_Follow my lead, oh, how I need,_

_Someone to watch over me._ "

 

I played out the last few seconds of the song on the piano, my fingers gliding over each individual key as I went. All of the sound in the room descended into nothing when the last key rang out and then slowly faded. Then it was completely silent, discounting my labored breath as I revived my lungs of oxygen. While it had felt indescribably good (and also terrifying) to just belt out my favorite song on piano, I knew good as anything that I needed more practice. I shouldn't have been this out of breath after one song. Perhaps the blood my racing heart was pumping through my veins at maximum speed had to do something with it.

I was waiting for Charlie to say something, anything because honestly I was petrified. I felt exploited, like I'd opened a new door inside myself that only Charlie could see through. It scared me to open up. While all of these thoughts whirled around my brain, the moment Charlie spoke, they froze.

"Harry," she whispered. I inhaled a long breath and held it for as long as I possibly could before releasing it and sneaking a self-conscious glimpse at her. Her hands were sat loosely in her lap and her eyes were peering up at me with the most utmost affection, our faces closer that I'd imagined. " _God_ ," she exhaled in disbelief. "That was-- I don't have words to-- I can't--" She stopped and took a breath to collect her words. "I'm... speechless, literally. I have no words. You're  _so_  talented, Harry."

I had no idea how I was supposed to reply to her so I sat there and stared down at my lap, my fingers intertwining absentmindedly.

"Your ability to play is just...  _wow_... and, like your voice, I just can't believe like... that was just so  _beautiful_."

 _YOU'RE so beautiful,_  I thought.  _And, dammit, I'm so beyond in love with you I could scream it to the world and not regret it for a day._

Charlie leaned into my side and pressed her cheek to my shoulder. "I wish you could play for me every day." And so that made me think: Is this what it would be like for Charlie and I to date? Would we act the same way around each other as we do now? Would we always be within each other's reach at times when we weren't already touching? Would I actually get to say all of the pent up thoughts in my head out loud to her? Is this how it would be? Because if it, then what the hell was stopping me from doing anything about it?

_Absolutely. Nothing._

A feeling of electricity surged through me and I didn't know what the fuck I was planning on doing exactly, but I knew that I needed to do something before I never did anything at all.

"Charlie," I spoke softly, barely loud enough for her to hear.

"Huh?" She lifted her head from it's resting place on my shoulder and a couple of loose strands of her hair fell in front of her face. As she was about to lift her hand to brush them away, I caught her forearm in a gentle grip and set it back carefully in her lap. She stared at me, puzzled at first but eventually blushed when instead I lifted my hand and pushed the fallen strands behind her ears myself. She closed her eyes momentarily and looked away from me, but I held her cheek in my hand and brought her face up to look back at mine. When her eyes met mine again I couldn't stop myself from smiling. Maybe it was the way her eyes were focused wearily on mine as much as mine were on hers, or the way her curved set of lips were pouted into a slight frown, or the way her irises were abnormally bright and her pupils were wider than I'd ever seen them before that literally drove me to the brink of insanity.

My pulse quickened under my skin and my senses grew fuzzy as I imagined my lips pressed hard to hers. My lungs felt like they were about to collapse in my chest and I felt like the rest of my bodily functions would shut off all at once.

"What would you do if I kissed you?"

Her breath hitched in surprise and her eyes widened momentarily as they searched my face, trying to determine if I had been serious. I could assure you, though, that I was two hundred percent serious. Almost as if she was about to say something, but couldn't, her mouth parted and she shook her head slowly. With eyes still locked securely on mine, she sputtered out an "I-I don't know."

I closed my eyes and swallowed hard, thinking to myself,  _This is it... right now. This is the moment of truth and it will either make or break you._

I stroked a thumb over her jawline and watched her eyelashes flutter a bit at the contact. My eyes traced over the small freckles sprinkled over her nose and cheekbones and asked her, "Would you stop me if I did?"

Charlie looked paralyzed. The shakiness of her breath was prominent and I could only imagine mine sounded the identical to hers considering I was scared shitless.

Charlie swallowed hard and shook her head decisively. "No." She took another breath. "I wouldn't."

My initial response was delayed as I was slightly stunned by her answer. The moment I came to my senses and my brain had interpreted her consent, I had barely enough time to release a breathy, "Okay," before I found myself capturing her pink lips with mine.

_Jesus FUCK._

At first, it didn't even  _feel_  real. I had trouble focusing on it, thinking maybe it was just another one of my daydreams, but no. She was really there and I was honest-to-God kissing her. This was no daydream.

Charlie pressed her hand over my chest and gripped the fabric of my loose sweater. She tugged at my shirt to pull me closer and I complied, leaning in further. Her lips put the softness of silk to shame and that wasn't even an exaggeration. I kissed the left corner of her mouth where her lips joined at the edges and could distinctly taste the faint flavor of vanilla Chapstick. My kinesthesia heightened as the fuzziness in my mind cleared. I couldn't ignore how the smile on her face grew when I nimbly grazed over her bottom lip with my teeth.

"Harry," she giggled, but even then she didn't pull away. Her hand on my neck pulled me down further so that my chest was pressed to hers. I felt her heart pounding at a pace equivalent to mine and it reassured me that maybe I wasn't the only one freaking out here. I had accepted a long time ago that she was the epitome of a perfect person-- somebody who was caring, affectionate, insightful-- but what I had thought about time and time again was  _ME?_  What was it that could possibly make her feel this way about me. How could somebody like her possibly want somebody like me? It didn't makes sense.

I turned my face away from her and Charlie took the opportunity to lightly peck my jaw and stroke it with her thumb. She must have noticed my sudden mood change because she sighed and leaned her forehead into mine. "I can see those wheels in your brain turning," she said, ruffling my hair and weaving her fingers through the curls. "But whatever you're thinking about, stop it. Stop over thinking everything and just... live, okay?"

I smiled at her and turned my head to the side, leaving a lingering kiss to her open palm. "You're not the only one who's told me that before," I smirked.

"I'm glad I'm not the only one who sees it," she grinned, biting the inside of her cheek shyly.

I chuckled lightly and left a trail of kisses from her forehead down to her nose and then another from her nose to her mouth again. She smiled against my lips and proceeded to wrap her arms around the back of my neck, pulling me in closer to her. And I had never been more content than in that moment. I had been waiting and waiting and  _waiting_  for somebody to come along and become the closest thing to a friend to me. Even in my darkest days, I'd prayed for a companion, somebody I could trust and be close to, but nobody ever came. And now here she was.

I wanted her intoxicating smile. I wanted to melt under every touch she offered me. I wanted to know her and I wanted her to know me. I didn't worry about anybody else in this world besides Charlie. I didn't care about anybody else in this world besides Charlie. I didn't  _love_  anybody else in this world besides Charlie, and for that, I was ready and willing to send her all of my love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: HARRY AND CHARLIE SITTING IN A TREE. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. GEEZ. HOW LONG HAVE WE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS TO HAPPEN, LIKE 138202719 YEARS MAYBE? YEP. THAT SOUNDS ABOUT RIGHT TO ME.
> 
> AAAAANYWAY, what did you guys think?? We're you expecting this shizz to happen or what?
> 
> In the past few weeks, these are the things that have been going on:
> 
> 1\. School (obvi)
> 
> 2\. I had my first public speaking competition last weekend
> 
> 3\. APUSH (yes, it gets its own bullet point because it's entirely its own form of Hell.)
> 
> 4\. Work
> 
> So yeah, it's been a little crazy lately, but I sincerely do apologize for the delay. To make up for it though, I made this chapter over 8,700 words for you guys! It's the most words I've ever written in one of my chapters!
> 
> Thank you cuties(: Comment and vote please! It would mean the world!
> 
> Cute as a button, every single one of you(:
> 
> -Mia<3


	17. Chapter 15

*One Week Later*

 

*Charlie's POV*

 

If there was a single text message I had ever dreaded receiving from Harry it was:

 

**To: Charlie**

**From: Harry**

**I'm on my way over x**

 

Now, don't get me wrong. It wasn't because I didn't want to see Harry because I ALWAYS wanted to see Harry. The problem arose because I didn't want to see him here at  _my_  house. We lived two completely different lives; mine was average at best and his was luxurious at the least. He could afford more now than I ever could in my entire life.

I could already feel myself getting worked up over his impending arrival. It seemed like a waste of his time to drive all the way here to an unimpressive neighborhood to get to an unimpressive house owned by an unimpressive me. Deep down I had known he would get suspicious as to why he'd never been to my house and possibly wonder about it. I had just hoped that maybe he wouldn't.

I plopped down on the sofa and picked up my cat when he prodded at my foot with his paw.

"Sir Paw, you're gonna get to meet Harry today," I voiced with enthusiasm, combing my fingers through the thick fur of his back. He flipped his tail and stared into my eyes as he mew-ed in casual response. "Yep. You heard me. After everything I've said about him the past few months, you finally get to meet him."

He dug his head into my thigh and stalked back and forth, rubbing his sides against my leg. I smiled and scratched behind his ear.

 _I just hope he doesn't think any differently of me_ , I thought. My gut told me he wouldn't because he was Harry and he was this incredible person who would do no harm to anybody, but still my heart plunged low in my chest each time I imagined him walking through my door with a grimace on his face as his eyes took it all in...

I didn't have much more time to ponder it before my door bell rang and my stomach knotted.

 _OhNoOhNoOhNoOhNoOhNo_. I bet he's standing out there right now thinking of a way to get out of this. Maybe when I open the door he will have already left and I won't have to face this embarrassment.

Of course I had no such luck.

I unlocked the front door and swung it open to find him standing there in his own brilliant glow, soft green eyes pinned to mine, a soft grin adorning his hairpin lips, and both hands tucked into the back pockets of his black jeans. Good Lord, was he beautiful.

His eyes fled from mine shyly as he said, "Hey," and took a small step forward to wrap me into a hug. I hooked my arms around his waist tightly and took the opportune moment to indulge in the heady scent of his cologne as it enveloped me in time with his arms. As he pulled away from me, I tried not to smile too giddily when he pecked my cheek. He smiled when my face tinted light pink at the gesture. I mentally crossed my fingers in hopes he hadn't noticed the countless goosebumps rising underneath my skin from his simple touch.

He cleared his throat and shifted his emerald eyes to meet mine again. "May I come in?" he asked.

 _NoNoNoNoNoNo_.

My throat tightened but I nodded. "Sure." I stepped back out of the way and allowed him passage into my house. His hand brushed mine as he passed, perhaps by accident but I hoped maybe it had been intentional.

Just as I closed the door behind him, Harry's breath hitched in what I thought was in response to my unsatisfiable abode. I pinched my eyes closed in disappointment and refused to face him until I heard him utter a very enthusiastic, "AWWWW," which I then presumed was not directed toward what I'd initially thought.

"Is this your cat?" Harry inquired excitedly. My eyes fell to the floor where I watched Sir Paw swipe at Harry's feet with his declawed kitten paws.

"Uh, yeah." I scratched at the back of my neck and grinned a bit as I watched as their interaction.

Harry crouched low to the ground and held out his knuckles to Sir Paw. "Hi there," he spoke gently. "I'm Harry." I bit back a smile as Sir Paw paced back and forth reluctantly just out of Harry's reach. "Aw, don't be like that," Harry tisked, but my cat refused to accept his friendly invitation.

"Be nice," I scolded my cat but he continued to resist Harry's offer and bat at his hand instead. "That's really weird of him. He usually doesn't mind people..."

Harry shrugged and chuckled light-heartedly. "It's alright. He doesn't have to like me. It can just be a one way thing." He stood up and brushed off the knees of his jeans as he glimpsed around the room, his gaze floating around from my grotesque furniture to the old, stained carpeting and lastly to my shabby kitchen.

"Um, I'll take your jacket," I offered quickly, disliking his wandering gaze. I did like not knowing what was going through his head.

"Sure, thanks," he smiled, shedding the jacket from his shoulders. When he handed it to me, I spun around and hung it in the coat closet by the front door. I returned a second later and felt him looking at me but I pretended like I didn't notice, playing absentmindedly with my hands.

"What is it?" he asked me. "What's wrong?"

My heart pulsed and I felt my blood get hot as apprehension took over. "What do you mean?"

His elbow nudged me to get my attention and I looked up at him. "You're being shy and we both know you're not shy. What's going on?"

I sighed deeply and tapped my foot against the floor nervously. "I know, I'm sorry. I guess I'm just self-conscious about this. I'm ashamed that I have nothing to offer you here." I crossed my arms protectively over my chest and inhaled a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

"Charlie..."

My gaze fell and I swallowed hard. "I know, I know. You've told me over and over again that it doesn't matter to you, but it does to me."

"I'll tell you what. If me being here really makes you uncomfortable, why don't we just go back to my house instead. Do you want to do that?"

I seriously considered takin advantage of his offer, but I knew that deep down that I needed to get over this fear of condemnation, this fear that Harry wouldn't like me because I'm not 'like' him. This was me and I should have been proud of myself, so with a still very hesitant shake of my head, I decided against it.

"No, it's okay. I'm just overreacting is all."

"Are you sure?" He didn't seem so convinced.

I nodded and lightly gnawed on the inside of my lip. "There's not much for you to see, but I can show you around if you want."

"Sure," he smiled assuringly and my heart fluttered in my chest because his smile might have just been my favorite thing in the world.

Sir Paw was circling Harry's figure, seemingly sizing him up so I shooed him away and he took off down the hallway into my bedroom, his 'safe place.'

"I don't know what his deal is," I apologized.

"No big deal. He's probably just protecting you," he replied.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that he might be intimidated towards another guy being in your house."

"Well, I mean, you're  _such_  a huge threat to me..." I laughed.

Harry smirked amusedly. "Oh, most definitely."

I looked around timidly and switched my weight to my left foot, leaning slightly in his direction. "Well..." I started. "This is my living room. Very unextraordinary as you can tell. And you can sort of see into the kitchen from here." I gestured to the room and ran my fingers through my hair, a nervous habit.

"Great, do you care if I grab something to drink?" he asked as he made his way into the kitchen before I could answer.

"Yeah, sure. Take whatever to want," I offered.

He opened the fridge and bent down eye-level to it to search for something he wanted. He returned with a water bottle in hand and a scowl on his face.

"I'm disappointed in your lack of bananas."

I rolled my eyes. "Bananas are disgusting, Harry. We fight over this like every day."

"And every day I wait in hopes that you'll eventually come to terms with your love for them. Until then, we may not be friends."

"You are a man-child."

He took a swig of his water. "That is no way to speak to your guest, Ms. Hopkins," he chastised. "Continue the tour or I'll demand a refund."

I muttered 'You're annoying,' under my breath and heard him chuckle behind me as I lead him down the hallway. I stopped half way and adjusted the pictures along the way until they were straight and evenly spaced out. Harry watched me intently and I felt the need to mumble an apology. He waved it off dismissively, but I cursed my brain for not being able to just ignore something as tiny as a crooked picture frame. But I couldn't just pass it up. It would continue to nag at the back of my mind for the rest of the day until I fixed it.

"Sorry, my house is so small," I said taking a couple steps in the direction we were headed previously.

"That's alright. I don't mind."

_Or so he says._

All I really had left to present was a bathroom and a bedroom. I lived in a one story, one bedroom, one and a half bath flat and nothing much more than that. It was nothing short of low-key, but it sufficed, I guessed.

We entered my room and encountered Sir Paw lying attentively at the foot of my bed, his tail flipping back and forth patronizingly. I walked in and sat down next to him, picking him up and holding him like a baby in my arms. Harry stood against the doorway, drumming the half-empty water bottle against his thigh as he looked around.

"It's nothing great, but it works for me." His eyes fell on me and he nodded agreeably, but I somehow felt the need to defend my position further. "I mean, it's more of an apartment than it is a house," I explained and he smiled lightly. "And I know it's really old and outdated but it's clean. I clean it every week and I keep things straightened and in order, so..."

"I can tell."

I sheepishly returned my gaze to the complacent cat and proceeded to scratch his belly with my free hand. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Harry push off the doorframe and walk over to sit down beside me. I kept my eyes cast down, suddenly feeling weak under his watch.

"Well I think it's great," he said to me.

I shook my head dubiously. How could he possibly say that after seeing this... nothingness.

"I don't believe you," I said quietly in defiance.

"I'm not lying to you to make you feel better," he assured. "I think this place is home-y. It feels lived in and loved. I can't say the same for mine. So much of my house is empty, unused space. It sucks, really. All it does is mock me."

"I know the feeling," I added.

He bumped his shoulder into mine to make me look at him. "Then can we just agree that wishing for things we don't have is perfectly normal and just a part of human nature and doesn't make me or you any different from each other?" he inquired, a smile pulling at his lips.

I nodded toward Harry, glimpsing first at his pink lips and then to his eyes and,  _oh_ , his eyes were magical. I looked away quickly and instead gazed down at Sir Paw who was too busy watching Harry spitefully to pay any attention to the affection I was giving him.

It was silent for a long time between us, but even then I could still feel Harry's eyes on me.

I cleared my throat. "Why are you staring at me?" I asked him, a slight blush creeping to my cheeks.

"What? Is it a crime to look at people?" he smiled.

"No, I'm just curious why you're ogling me."

"Maybe I just think you're really pretty," he shrugged and turned away to fixate his gaze on the wall in front of him.

My heart swelled from just that comment alone. I held back a smile and answered, "Well I think you're really pretty too." He hummed quietly. "What?" I asked.

"Do you think guys can be pretty?" he asked thoughtfully.

I set Sir Paw back down on the floor and watched him stroll out of the room without so much as a second thought. I shrugged absentmindedly, playing with the sleeve of my sweater. "I think they can. You're living proof of it."

He sighed and leaned into me, placing his lips to my shoulder and mumbling, "How is it that you always say things that make me want to kiss you so bad?"

I laughed lightly and blushed, leaning back into him, resting my cheek against his forehead. "I just tell you the truth is all." He hummed again and I chucked. "But I mean you  _could_  just kiss me if you really wanted to."

I felt his lips turn upwards against my shoulder and he sat up to look at me, his arm moving to surround my waist. "And you  _could_  just ask me if you really wanted me to..." he trailed off.

"Ohhhh, okay..." I said play-thoughtfully. "Well I guess I'll do just that, then."

"You should," he encouraged.

"Hmmm, okay," I smiled, kissing his cheek. "Will you kiss me?"

A loopy grin appeared on his face. "Let me think about that for just one second," he said tapping his chin with his index finger. "Yeah, I think I will."

The butterflies in my stomach fluttered excitedly as he pulled me closer to him and turned his head slightly to connect our lips. I placed my palm gently over his chest and curled my fingers around the front of his shirt, basking in the warmth of his heat as it engulfed me. His oh-so-plump lips were welcoming against mine, like they were crafted specially to fit together.

My mind could not even wrap itself around how much I truly loved this boy; I loved his lips, I loved his hands, I loved his hair, I loved his eyes, I loved his tattoos, I loved his smile, I loved his kisses, I loved his touch, I loved his heart, I loved everything he was, the good and the bad, and damn it, I loved  _him_.

His hand reached up to delicately cup my cheek as his tongue swiped slowly across my bottom lip, catching me off guard. I settled a hand on the back of his neck and grinned slightly. He smiled and sucked lightly on my bottom lip, causing me to giggle.

"Hey," he whined. "You're not supposed to laugh when I'm kissing you."

"I'm sorry," I grinned, pursing my lips to stop myself. "Try again."

He squeezed my hip lightly and pressed his mouth to mine, a little harder than before and my eyelashes fluttered shut in ecstasy. His hands gripped me softly and he nudged me onto my back on the bed as I pulled him down with me so as not to break away from him or his enticing lips. My hair was fanned out around my face as I lied there with almost his entire self settled against me. His toned chest pressed to mine and I relished in how our hearts thumped in synchronization, both beating erratically. His fingertips came up to brush loose hair out of my face and I smiled against his mouth. His hair was too irrisistibly soft and curly to disregard, so I combed my fingertips through it, tugging lightly at the small knots at the nape of his neck. Goosebumps rose on his skin in response.

A warm feeling formed in the pit of my stomach at the realization that this was real, that this was Harry and that this was not just my imagination playing tricks on me. I wondered if it had just been an amazing coincidence that I had encountered him in my life or if it was fate who had pushed us together. I wondered what I had done to deserve such a blessing in my life.

My senses were cloudy, totally consumed with everything Harry Styles-related when a sound came from the other room. I was oblivious until it happened a second time, and it became more prominent. It sounded much much like that of a door closing.

I perked up this time and pulled away from Harry. "What?" he said but I immediately hushed him. "What's wrong," he whispered quietly. I felt his warm breath on my cheek as he spoke and I tried not to blush from our close proximity, but his strong arm wrapped around my waist and his hovering body was difficult to ignore.

I glanced to the door of my bedroom and muttered, "I think someone might be here." My eyes met his seriously and he looked confused.

"Are you expecting anyone?" I shook my head. "Then it's probably just your cat. Maybe, he closed a door or something, and that's what you heard." We stared at each other for another moment, listening to determine if we could hear anything else but it was practically silent aside from the hum of the radiator.

When I decided it was nothing, I bit the inside of my lip and shrugged, a small grin finding its way onto my face. Harry smiled when I wove my fingers into his curls again and brought his lips down to mine. His hand traced my side softly, occasionally bumping the hem of my shirt up with his fingertips and rubbing his thumb over my hipbones. The butterflies in my stomach spiraled out of control at his warm touch and soft lips and mere presence. He was so gentle with me and I just couldn't stop myself from thinking  _I love you I love you I love you._ He was so fucking perfe-

" _Oh my god._ "

My eyes opened in surprise at hearing a voice that was neither mine nor Harry's. It was, however, a voice that I knew.

_Vince._

Harry and I turned in unison to see Vincent standing in the doorway of my bedroom, staring at us in utter disbelief. The once intimate moment was shattered right then, no doubt. My mind tried processing the reality of the situation, running desperately behind my heart racing at a speed of about 739262910 kilometers per second, and before I knew what I was doing, I was slipping out of Harry's loose grip and moving away from him entirely. I jumped out of my bed and scurried quickly over to Vince, grabbing his forearm and dragging him down the hallway behind me before he had the opportunity to flip the fuck out over Harry Styles in the flesh. My friend was surprisingly compliant as I whisked him into the bathroom down the hallway from my room and slammed the door behind us.

"Vince," I breathed, turning to face him.

He plopped down on the edge of the bathtub and buried his face in his hands, looking in awe at the floor. " _Oh my god,_ " he whispered.

"Blood hell, Vince. What are you doing here?"

He looked at me with a noticeable sparkle of hope in his eye. "Was that..." he trailed off, looking past me at the closed door.

I rubbed my temples wearily. "Yes."

"Oh my god, Charlie. He was  _kissing_  you," he said, almost as if he was telling himself instead of me.

"I know, I was  _there_."

He fanned himself with his hands and took deep breaths. "Oh God, I can't breathe," he gasped.

"Vince."

"I'm serious, oh my god, he's in the other room. I might pass out."

"You're not going to pass out," I sighed. "Just calm down."

"Charlie, you know I can't."

I  _did_  know.

I sighed heavily. "What are you doing here? And why didn't you say something when you came in?"

"I came to give you something," he explained, rubbing his palms against his knees. "I thought maybe you were sleeping, so I came in to wake you since it's," he glanced at his watch, "12:00 and you weren't up yet, to the best of my knowledge." I have him an unsympathetic look and he immediately back pedaled. "I'm sorry, I didn't know, I swear. You didn't tell me."

I slid partway down the door, supported only by my bent legs and covered my face with my hands. "He saw you. He's gonna think you and I are-"

"No, it's gonna be okay," he shushed me.

I dropped my hands to my sides helplessly and looked up at him. "You don't know that."

"Just explain the situation. I'm sure he'll understand. He likes you."

"But-"

A knock sounded on the opposite side of the door, causing me to jump.

"Charlie."

I looked worriedly to Vince as he stood there on alert, fully aware that a thin wooden door was the only barrier between him and  _the_  Harry Styles.

I didn't reply, instead resorting to standing there and staring dumbly at the tiled bathroom floor.

"Charlie," he said again.

"Yeah?" I answered weakly.

"What the  _hell_  is going on?" He sounded angry.

I swallowed hard and shook my head. "It's not what you think. It's really not."

"Really, because it looks to me like there's another guy in your house. Correct me if I'm wrong."

"You're right," I said timidly.

He was silent for a moment and I almost though that he had left.

"Is he your boyfriend?" he finally asked.

My heart melted a bit at his question and I felt a tug of guilt pull in my gut because  _no_ , I would never do that to him. I glimpsed at Vince who was staring wide-eyed at me.

I exhaled a long breath and pressed my palms into the door to push myself off the space I occupied. Turning the knob slowly, I opened the door to find Harry leaning his back against the parallel wall. He glanced behind me and I felt a nervous jerk on my shirt from Vince who was peeking over my shoulder to see Harry, perhaps to come to terms with the fact that it was, in fact, the Harry Styles he knew.

"Listen, Harry," I started slowly.

Harry closed his eyes painfully and leaned his head back to look up at the ceiling. "I'm listening."

"He's not my boyfriend, Harry."

" _Was_  he your boyfriend?" he countered.

"No, never:"

He blinked a couple times before rubbing a hand over his face. "Who is he?"

"He's my best friend. His name is Vince." I looked over my shoulder at Vince and he nodded in encouragement. "He has a key to my house and that's how he got in."

Harry looked back at me, slouching slightly forward as he drummed his fingers against the wall, seemingly hesitant as to what to believe. I didn't blame him. Vince sort of popped in out of nowhere. It was a little skeptical. It didn't help my case that he was no unattractive lad. Vince was tall and thin and undoubtedly a handsome man- anybody with eyes could see that. His skin was tan and clear, his sandy brown hair was prefect styled and his clothes were impressive to say the least.

"I know what you're thinking, and I'm sorry. That's not what it is." I diverted my gaze to my hands.

"Why have you never talked about him? If he's your  _best friend_ , you should have said something to me about him."

My eyes met Vince's, silently asking permission to tell him.

"What?" Harry insisted. "Why are you keeping him a secret? What don't you want me to know?"

Just before I could construct another sentence in my head, Vince spoke for me.

"I'm gay," he said followed by a quick clearing of his throat. "I- I could never date Charlie." I could tell by the way he stumbled over his words he was still a little starstruck and perhaps nervous about admitting something so blunt to somebody he saw as important. "We don't have a... thing. We never have and we just never will. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude. It wasn't intentional." He looked back at me and his eyes looked fearful, clearly displeased that this was the way he was meeting Harry for the first time.

Harry's eyebrows furrowed a little as he turned to me. "That doesn't explain why you never said anything to me. Do you really think something like that matters to me?" He looked a bit hurt and my throat closed up in panic, thinking he was going to get angry and storm out.

"Of course not," I defended. "I just..."

"What?"

"She was protecting you," Vince cut in for me again. "She knows you don't like, like, crazy fans all over you and stuff and like,  _I_  like you... a  _lot_." His face reddened as he emphasized the last part. "I think she was waiting is all."

The look in Harry's eyes softened a bit as he now understood what was going on. Vince wasn't just gay. He was gay for  _him_.

I was still reluctant to speak to him in case I was imagining his change in character and he was actually still angry. I felt like I'd betrayed him by lying and my heart was clenching terribly.

"Okay," he said finally.

"Okay?" I took a small step forward, looking at him hopefully. "As in like, you're not upset with me?" I spun around to face Vince to get him to back me up. "I promise it's the truth," I said and he nodded.

He looked back and forth between me and Vincent, looking to me last. He released a deep sigh and closed his eyes. "Yeah."

"Okay," I breathed in relief and took a step forward to wrap my arms around him in a hug. Harry leaned down and pressed his lips to my forehead, embracing me tighter in the process.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's alright."

"I would never cheat on you. I could never even think of it." I pressed a kiss to the center of his chest and hugged him for as long as I could, until I remembered that Vince was still there, likely watching us enviously.

I pulled away from him and looked to Vince who was stood against the frame of the door, making a point of not meeting Harry's eyes. "Vince, this is Harry," I introduced. "Harry, Vince."

Vince smiled shyly in Harry's direction, very unlike himself. Vince was not a shy person, but perhaps that was just the effect that somebody you loved could have on you. I knew it had happened to  _me_  countless times in the presence of Harry.

"Um, I think I'll just leave you guys be," Vince said. "I've been a nuisance once, and I would hate to intrude any more than I already have. It was nice meeting you," he said, risking a final glimpse up to Harry.

"Hang on," Harry interjected and I turned to him in surprise. "Like, it's okay. You don't have to go." Harry looked to me to make sure that I was okay with that and I shrugged. It was his decision. "I mean, like, I think we were just going to hang out here today..."

"Really, though, it's not a big deal. You guys deserve some time together."

"You know you're welcome here," I told him.

"And I would really like to know some of Charlie's friends since she's never mentioned any of you before," he added, eyeing me condescendingly and I knew I deserved that look.

"I just don't want you to be uncomfortable knowing that I-"

"That you like me? I'm not a homophobe."

"I know, I know, but-"

"So stay for a bit. What's it matter if you like me? Charlie likes me too, I think, and I don't find  _that_  to be a problem."

Vince looked at me and then at Harry and then at me again before releasing a long breath and nodding his head, a small smile gracing his lips.

"Yeah, okay."

I grabbed Harry's hand and rested my head on his shoulder in relief that that had actually not led do the demise of our relationship, and by 'relationship', I didn't know what I meant because I didn't know what Harry and I  _were,_ so to speak. We hadn't labelled us yet and for now, that was okay. That wasn't a priority. Harry and Vince were my priorities and that's all that I cared about at the moment.

 

. . .

 

"He's actually really funny," Harry chuckled in amusement.

"I know he is," I giggled.

"And tell me again why you never mentioned him before?"

I sighed and stared up into the indigo sky, tracing the billions of stars above us with my eyes, finding patterns and imaginary pictures in the clumps scattered about. Harry's body rested beside mine on the white hammock in the backyard of my small abode. The previous owners of the house were an elderly couple that moved into a condo and could not bring the hammock with them. Instead, they settled on leaving it in the hands of me, claiming they never used it anyway. I was grateful because  _I_ , unlike them, happened to use it all the time for when I read books or needed some space to breathe some fresh air. Yes, I  _was_  that type of person.

The hammock rocked back and forth ever so slightly with the help of the semi-chilly nighttime breeze. I pulled my jacket closer around myself and inched closer to Harry in search of his seemingly everlasting warmth.

"You don't understand," I said. "Vince has been head over heels for you since, like, day one, absolutely, one hundred percent crazy in love. You're all he talks about when I'm with him."

"He didn't come off that way to me," Harry stated.

"I was actually pleasantly surprised that he behaved himself," I laughed. "Maybe that was just because he was embarrassed for walking in on us... you know."

"Hardcore making out?"

"Yeah, that. He probably wanted to make a point of having a good second impression on you since his first one didn't exactly go so well."

"When were you planning on introducing me? If ever?"

I pondered the question for a long while, gripping my sleeves tightly in my palms to keep them warm. "Of course I would have at some point. I think I was just waiting until he could promise me that he wouldn't have a heart convulsion upon seeing you in person."

Harry laughed deeply beside me and I smiled because happy Harry called for a happy Charlie and that meant that everything was just happy. Happy was good.

I cleared my throat. "I can imagine you get frustrated at people coming up to you and going totally berserk, so I didn't want you to be mad at me if that was how he acted. I'm sorry I didn't mention him sooner."

"It's okay," he told me.

We were quiet for a long time, both of us studying the mysteries the dark sky inevitably held. I felt his hand searching for mine, and when he found it, he entwined our fingers, setting them between us.

"I'm sorry I made you think I was cheating on you."

He turned his face toward me and I swallowed hard. "I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions."

"But it makes sense," I told him. "If we were at your house and some random girl just happened to waltz right in, I think I would jump to conclusions to."

"Fair enough," he smiled and I turned to him, our faces only inches apart. My heart started beating quickly in my chest and I leaned forward ever so slightly to brush my lips against his. His eyes closed wearily and he reciprocated without hesitation. It was quick and gentle, but it still made my stomach feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

I moved to rest my head on his shoulder, but his arm came around to encircle me, pulling me into his side instead. My cold cheek pressed to his chest and I smiled at his pulsing heart.

"What are you smiling at?" he asked quietly.

"Nothing," I lied.

"Well it's certainly something."

I placed my left hand over his heart beside where my head lied. "Just that your heart's beating really fast."

He nodded and I glanced up to watch his sparkling eyes take in the beautiful night. "It tends to do that when I'm around you," he told me. I didn't respond because I wasn't exactly sure how to answer to something so nonchalant and honest at the same time. I kept my head resting against his chest that rose and fell with each slow breath he took and I drummed my fingers in a soft, steady rhythm over his ribcage.

I shamelessly stared up at him as he stared up to somewhere in space. His lips curled ever-so slightly, much like how the ends of his hair spiraled into perfect little ringlets no matter how many times he ran his fingers through his hair. His eyebrows arched ever so slightly as though whatever he was watching intrigued him and his jawline was sharp and defined and smooth and so perfectly sculpted it could captivate me entirely on its own.

"Now who's the one staring?" he smirked.

I blushed at being caught and said, "Well maybe I just think you're pretty," using his own words against him.

"Well I think you're pretty too."

I finally tore my eyes away from him and we lied for goodness knows how long, basking only in the presence of each other. Everything was perfect until a particularly cold gust of wind swept over us, causing us both to shiver in unison.

"Maybe it's time we go inside," I suggested and Harry agreed, laughing lightly. He helped me out of the hammock first and then I, him, using teamwork to prevent that fatality that would likely occur if one of us lost balance and it flipped over.

Once I pulled him to his feet, we slipped our shoes that sat patiently beside the flimsy anchorage back on and strolled back up to my house, his hand on the small of my back, and mine around the waist of his torso the whole way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay so I'm terrible and I know it. I have no excuse for why I haven't updated in forever besides the fact that I was being lazy and putting it off. I think it might have been because I didn't particularly like this chapter; I find it boring and I apologize if you do too.
> 
> I have 732919272 ideas of things I want to put into this story and I'm so excited! If you guys don't give up on me, I won't give up on this story, I promise. I absolutely love this story so much and I was just talking to my best friend Sydney last night about how much I love writing it.
> 
> Anyways, I love you guys endlessly. PLEASE vote, comment, and share with your friends!
> 
> Cute as a button, every single one of you!  
> -Mia<3


	18. *Not An Update*

Hi everybody. Mia here. I'm sorry if you thought this was an update but I'm afraid it's not. I just wanted to take a few moments to clear up a few things. No, I am not putting this story on hold nor am I stopping it completely. In fact, I love writing this story and I hope to never stop until it is completely finished. There's just been a lot going on for me right now and I feel you guys should know.

Basically, I'm going through a sort of depressive phase right now and I hope it really is just a phase because I don't want this to continue. I'm currently receiving some proffessional help from a therapist and so far it's been a good thing. There's no other way of describing it besides I feel alone and sad about so many things and that's not really anybody's fault. I have been highly stressed and anxious and sleep-deprived and almost always at the brink of tears and I know that's not healthy, but there is not a whole lot I can do about it right now. Work has been extremely hard and so has my junior year of high school. I'm unhappy in my household as well and so I tend to just lock myself up in my room and distance myself from everyone in my family. I would like to thank all of my friends for being so understanding and helpful through these times though they might not understand how truly I am effected sometimes. Luckily, their mere presence does so much for me and I love them for being the most amazing group of people I know.

I've been procrastinating doing all of my favorite things and that alone makes me upset because I really do enjoy writing. All I can ask is that you guys bare with me as I continue to write this story. I won't make any more promises for when chapters will be updated because that seems unfair to both you and me. I know my story doesn't have a lot of reads but I am thankful for everybody who does read it. I give all of my love and appreciation to you guys. I enjoy talking to you all through my inbox and also Twitter (I'm @ExcelsiorLou).

I hope you guys really do understand and all I can ask is that you are patient with me. I love you all very, very much and I am here for any of you who need it, okay?

Cute as a button, every single one of you(:

-Mia<3

 

(P.S. Chapter 16 is in progress for anybody who cares.)

(P.P.S. I forgot to tell you all Merry Christmas and Happy New Year so here is a very, very belated Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all of you. I hope this year treats you accordingly.)


	19. Chapter 16

*Harry's POV*

 

I stared blankly ahead at the white wall in front of me and swallowed the lump in my throat.

 _You can do this,_  I thought.  _Don't get worked up. If you get worked up, the whole world will see it. There are people with phones and cameras swarming this place and if you break down, you will never hear the end of it._

I picked at a hangnail on the side of my thumb and closed my eyes in an attempt to calm my racing heart. The fists thumping on the shop's glass pounded in time with my head, causing my headache to gradually worsen. The obnoxious screams outside were just about as consoling as the pounding on the windows.

_Just block it out. Keep yourself together and block it out as best as you can._

I rested my head between my legs for as long as I could remember, my restless heart beating erratically in my chest. I somehow managed to block out the white noise around me and focus instead on my head's endless attempts at comfort. Most days I knew not to listen to what my head was telling me, but today was one of the rare days my brain and I worked as a team. It worked hard to keep me sane. It told me countless times, over and over again that I was going to be alright, that I was not in danger, that there was no need to panic. And for once in my life, I felt safe in my own body.

_Remember. Deep breaths._

_Inhale... Exhale._

_Repeat._

I seemed to be in a world of my own. For the longest time I became oblivious to the comotion surrounding me until finally a voice pulled me away from isolated thoughts. At first it puzzled me because it was familiar, though it was not my own. It came from beside me again, a soft, low voice whispering barely-audible encouragements into my ear.

_Charlie._

"Harry," she was saying as her gentle hand soothingly rubbed up and down my hunched spine. "You're doing well. Just keep breathing." Her close presence assured me that I was not alone. I felt secure in the presence of another person. I believed the words that she was speaking to me. I believed that I was, in fact, going to be okay.

I hummed quietly under my breath and lifted my chin to rest atop my kneecaps. Opening my eyes resulted in me shielding them with my hand and tilting my head in Charlie's direction due to the unyielding brightness of the florescent store lighting.

"Hey," she smiled resting her palm on my shoulder affectionately. As I stared at her, I saw now how dark her eyes were, the majority of her chocolate irises consumed by her pupils and also how sickly pale her cheeks were.

"I'm okay. I'm okay," I told her.

She blinked a couple times and studied me. She nodded. "I know you are."

"I just need some time to pull myself together. I'm fine now."

Her teeth skimmed lightly over the corner of her bottom lip, sucking on it lightly and then releasing it gently. "Okay."

Closing my eyes momentarily to relieve them of the stinging sensation of having them open, I said, "You don't have to worry about me as much as you do."

"I'm not worried," she defended weakly.

"You look like you've seen a ghost. You can't tell me that you aren't worried."

I opened my eyes again and Charlie mirrored my position -- cheek pressed against her arms that lied across her bent knees. She searched my face for another moment and attempted a smile, though I knew her worry was still imminent.

"What's going to happen now?" I wondered aloud, massaging my temples with my fingertips.

She sighed. "Your security is coming to get you out of here."

I lifted my head and blinked in confused. "Did you say my security?" She nodded. "What do you mean? How do they know I'm here?"

"I called them." Charlie explained. " Do you not remember? The minute we stepped foot in here you handed me your cell phone and told me to call them."

I shook my head no and rubbed my eyes with my palms. "I hardly remember anything that happened. I just remember my heart beating out of my chest and not being able to catch my breath."

She scratched the back of her neck. "Okay, well long story short, while we were out somebody recognized you and made this great big scene, drawing the attention of every other person around us. You kinda froze up when people started crowding you, so I dragged us both in here and locked the doors."

What a shame. What an absolute fucking shame that such a perfect day had to be ruined, a day that Charlie and I had both been looking forward to, a day that we'd been planning to spend together because the sun was going to be shining and because Charlie was off of work and because I had actually been feeling pretty good lately. Now it was me who was feeling at fault. Here I was, sitting on the nasty ass floor of some trash store I would have no interest in ever shopping in, willing myself to not have a panic attack. In addition to that, Charlie had to be the one to sit here on this nasty ass floor of this trash store  _with me_. I vowed I would apologize to her later when we weren't in this situation.

I leaned forward and looked past Charlie. My eyes wandered from wall display to wall display of overpriced shoes and snap-backs, each with different logos adorning the fronts. At what I assumed to be the front counter stood a man who looked to be in his late twenties. I caught him staring at the both of us, but he turned away quickly once we made eye-contact.

"What's his problem?" I asked, turning to Charlie.

"He's afraid of me now," she answered with mild amusement.

"What do you mean?" I asked, squinting in confusion. "What did you do?"

She chuckled a bit under her breath. "He yelled at me when I locked the door. He told me that I couldn't do that and that he was going to call the police on us, blah blah blah, but I threatened him that if he even came close to opening that door, it was going to be the last thing he ever did.

I buried my face in my hands and chuckled. " _Charlie._  Please tell me you did  _not_  say that." She replied with a shrug and an airy laugh, a sound so beautiful it could make bird sings and babies smile. "Christ, Charlie. If I didn't know you like I do now think I would be afraid to even look at you."

She giggled and scooted so she was directly beside me, leaning into my side. I rested my head against hers and entwined our fingers, placing them between us. "I'm not  _that_  bad. And your health and safety is more important to me than the opinion some guy who works at some overpriced shoe store has of me."

"I'm glad I meet your standards, then."

"Meet? No, I think you exceed them."

"Really?"

"Yeah. By a lot. Like, a lot a lot."

"I'm honored."

"You should be."

A couple minutes passed in silence between Charlie and I. The crowd outside had failed to cease any and was probably growing by the minute. I could still hear the roars of screaming girls, but it didn't have as great of an effect on me as before, now that I knew Charlie was by my side, our shoulders touching and fingers laced.

"When my security bails me out, are you coming with me?"

"Well... that depends. Do you  _want_  me to come with you?"

Of  _course_  I wanted her to come with me. I didn't even hesitate. I squeezed her hand lightly and nodded.

"Well there's your answer. I'll go wherever you need me to go."

"Okay. Thank you."

Charlie reached into her pocket and pulled out my phone, flashing the screen in my direction so I could see it was a member of my security team calling. I gulped as she answered it and exchanged a couple of quick words with the person on the other end. I knew this meant they were close.

"Are they here?" I inquired when she hung up, biting one of my nails.

"Yeah. They said that they just pulled up. They're going to push way their way to the front and then we're going to walk out, okay?" I inhaled a deep breath and exhaled a quiet 'yeah, I guess so'. "Don't worry," she told me and slipped an arm around me to pull me close. I complied to her touch and sank into her side.

"I'm not worried," I blatantly lied.

"You look like you've seen a ghost. You can't tell me that you aren't worried."

"Don't copy me," I whined like a child. Charlie's lips turned up into a smile at my rejection of her teasing consolation. Seconds passed like hours in the few minutes we had to wait and I couldn't help but sigh as the screaming outside grew impossibly louder, likely from the appearance of my security team making an entrance into the crowd.

"I wasn't always like this," I announced suddenly. "People didn't used to have this sort of effect on me. Why is this happening to me now?"

Charlie shook her head slowly. "I don't know, Harry. You have a lot of shit going on in your life right now. Your anxiety towards people might just be a side-effect. "

I didn't know what to say so I didn't say anything at all, just traced the back of Charlie's knuckles with my thumb. My heart started pounding helplessly in my chest when she told me it was time to get ready. She helped pull me to my feet, slowly so my head wouldn't spin when I stood. My whole body felt heavy as I waited to walk hand in hand with Charlie to the front of the store. Previously we'd been in the very back, a safe place for me to recollect myself. It was partially disclosed from the front so it served as privacy from the people gathered outside.

To say that I was feeling the urge to vomit was an understatement. I felt like I might vomit or like my heart might drop into my stomach or like I might faint or like my lungs might collapse in my chest. The anxiety I was feeling quite literally felt as though it would eat me alive if I stepped even an inch outside those glass doors. I could already feel my lungs constricting, my oxygen source seemingly decreasing by the minute. But I knew I was going to have to face reality. The only way I was going to get out of here was through the crowd and with the help of Charlie and my security.

"There they are," Charlie said pointing to the men making their way to the front. "We have to go." I gulped and squeezed her hand again. "I'm right here," she told me reassuringly but I could hardly pay attention to her.

I trailed behind her to the front of the store and witnessed the crowd go wild at my appearance, flashes going off everywhere. My eyes watched Charlie's small hands fumble with the lock on the doors and push them open. Immediately, my security formed a circular barrier around us. My senses were blinded by the chaos so I proceeded to keep my head down and my eyes closed, trusting Charlie to lead the way. Anxious teenage girls tugged mercilessly on my clothing and shouted incoherent things into my ears, sentences strung together with different combinations of  _Harry, I love you_ and  _Harry, what happened to you?_  and  _Harry, are you okay?_

 _Of course I'm not okay_ , I thought to myself.  _I can't breathe. I need space and you're not giving me any._

"You're okay," Charlie said. "You're okay. We're almost there. Just keep your head down and keep moving. I got you."

"Okay," I said, keeping my eyes squinted shut.

It was difficult maneuvering through such a determined crowd, but my security was strong and relentless and pushed against the weight of those who had gathered. All I wanted was to reach the van whose soul purpose was to get me out of this hell hole and to safety. The door slid open as we approached and Charlie ensured that I was safely inside the car before she was. Fists pounded on the windows as the door slammed shut and just as quickly as we'd gotten in, we were driving off. I rested my head on the back of my seat and ran my hand through my hair multiple times in a weak attempt to regain my composure and my lack of breath. Nobody even attempted indulging in conversation with me, including Charlie as the van made its way away from the animosity behind us. Everyone seemed to understand that I wanted some space. I hadn't seen or even spoken to my security team in months making this car ride especially uncomfortable.

Once my head felt like it wasn't spinning and my urge to vomit had subsided, I stretched out my hand to take hold of Charlie's. The action must have surprised her because she flinched slightly at the contact and looked down at out where our hands met. I didn't say anything and neither did she. We slumped down in the joined back seat of the van and stared at each other for a long time, my lungs finally inhaling the oxygen it desired. My head still ached though I no longer felt dizzy, like I could faint at any given second like before.

A wave of exhaustion hit me shortly after we sped off and I lied down with my head on Charlie's lap. I stretched my legs out as much as I could manage in the small unaccommodating space, but was inconvenienced when I had to resort to bending them at the knee. Charlie's delicate fingertips trailed through my thick hair as I stared up at her. Her eyes were focused out the window, watching the tall buildings pass by, but my eyes couldn't see anything  _but_  her. When I was with her I felt nothing but love. The butterflies in my stomach fluttered everytime she so little as spoke to me. I felt cared for in her presence, a feeling so foreign to me I couldn't possibly describe it with words. She meant so much to me and all I wanted to do was tell her, but I had not in the slightest clue how to.

"Thank you, Charlie. Just... thank you."

Her fingers hesitated for a second in my hair before continuing to make perfect little finger curls with the ends of my hair.

"You're always welcome," she smiled and set her head back against the headrest. I tried to keep my eyes open, but with time they fluttered closed. I turned onto my side and curled my legs up to my chest. I don't remember passing out but it wasn't exactly a surprised that I did. With the peace and sense of security that came with Charlie being next to me I knew that once my eyes closed, I would be out.

 

. . .

 

*Charlie's POV*

 

The water running through the pipes of his house from the shower upstairs was the only thing I could hear. I was almost afraid to break the fragile silence by turning on the TV or listening to music or getting myself something to drink or even moving, really. I just wanted to sit. Sit and think. Think about things, Harry mostly. Think about the things I loved about him and think about the things I knew about him and think about the things I  _wanted_  to know about him. I wanted to know quite a lot; I wanted to know what he desired, what he looked forward to, what he thought about from day to day, and even what things he loved. There was still so much hidden from me about this man and I wanted to know it all, the good and the bad and the happy and the sad because those are the types of things that make everyone their own, unique person.

I thought about today. I thought about how he reacted when those people crowded him and also how he held himself when he was away from them. It was so different from the last time. The last time he was swarmed he had a panic attack and called me to come help him so that he wouldn't do anything he would regret later on. It amazed me how different the two occurrences had been and how far he'd come in these past few months between then and now. I was proud of him, so utterly proud that he kept himself together so well today. It made my heart clench painfully thinking about Harry sitting there on the floor, head pressed to his knees as he breathed in and out slowly, willing his anxiety to subside. I had felt so impotent knowing I could do nothing to help him at that moment in time because it was an internal battle that he had to fight with himself. I had no part in it and that alone had frightened me, fearing that things would end poorly.

I thought about Harry. I thought about how captivating and engaging and strong and determined and important and breathtakingly beautiful he was to me. He made typical, every day things so much more interesting when we did them together. Harry and I had browsed through dive-y little stores and antique/souvenir shops earlier today, trying on ridiculous clothing and searching for the most gaudy trinkets to poke fun at. It was easy to share a laugh with him. We were unstoppable and undeniably inseparable when we were together. He had become my partner in crime, the other half of my dynamic duo, and one of my best friends. We did everything together now and I enjoyed the time we spent.

I zoned out too much to notice the shower upstairs stop which is why I was startled when Harry started making his way down the stairs. I turned around on the couch to see him walking down, an assortment of blankets and pillows in stow. My eyes followed his movements, him placing a pillow and soft blanket in my lap as he passed me to settle himself on the couch opposite me, separated only by a coffee table.

I witnessed Harry tuck his flimsy pillow into the corner of the sofa and snuggle into the cousions. He pulled his blanket overtop him, wrapping the cover completely around himself and pulling it up just below his chin. He squirmed until he was on his side, facing me before he finally spoke. His hair was wild and unruly over his scalp. He cleared his throat.

"I just want to lay here," he explained from underneath his blankets, his eyes nearly the only visible feature of his face. I bit my lip to hold back a smile and he rubbed his eyes tiredly. "And if you laugh at me I swear I will kill you."

"I won't laugh at you," I giggled. "You just look really cute is all."

He rolled his eyes and turned over so he was on his back and staring at the ceiling. "I _don't_  look cute."

"Yes you do. You look like you're wrapped up in a little cocoon. That passes as cute in my book." He didn't rebuttal, but I could have sworn I saw him hide a grin into his palm.

I admired his hair, how when it was still wet it clung to his face and the back of his neck and how his dark curls spiraled at the ends. I wanted nothing more than to cup his cheek and kiss his lips as I ran my fingers through his soft hair...

"What is this for?" I asked suddenly to keep my mind from drifting too far. I held up the blanket and pillow he gave to me.

"For you to sleep with," he said.

"Oh really? I don't remember us talking about me spending the night..."

Harry exhaled slowly. "Well do you want to?"

"Do  _you_  want me to?"

"Well, yeah," he answered definitively.

"Well then yeah, I guess. But, why? Like..." I trailed off.

He sighed loudly. "The whole day was ruined today and I feel awful about it."

"It wasn't ruined, though.  _I_  had a lot of fun."

"We were supposed to have the whole day to ourselves to do whatever we felt like doing and it's my fault that what happened, happened."

I swallowed hard. "Please don't blame yourself. You had no control over the situation, Harry."

"I still feel responsible," he mumbled, adjusting his hands so that they gripped the edge of his blanket underneath his chin.

"I know you do. But I'm not mad, especially not at you."

I began setting up my makeshift bed for the night. Harry was quiet for a long time until I was situated in almost the exact position as him, both of us staring at the blank ceiling over our heads.

"You know people are going to be talking about you now too, right?" he asked.

I turned my face to look at him. "What are you talking about?"

He nodded. "You were with me all day today  _and_  you left with me, so now the tabloids are going to want to know who you are and they're going to make up stories and try to find you and everything. It's going to happen."

I was so confused, nearly at a loss for words. "But why me? I'm not famous. I'm not _anything_. I literally just work at a hospital. Why would they want to know about me?"

"Because you have relations to me now and they eat that shit  _up_." He looked at me and sat up on his elbow. "I'm just telling you now because I don't know what it's going to be like. But if people find out who you are, I can guarantee that you will get attention for it."

"O-okay," I replied a little shakily, sinking further into the sofa and pondering over the potential situation.

"Are you worried?"

"A little bit," I admitted.

"I'm sorry," he apologized guiltily. "I guess that's my fault too."

"There's nothing you could have done about that one either, okay?" He was silent. "Okay?" I tried again.

"Okay."

"Okay."

Minutes passed in slience, comofortable silence, not awkward, giving us both time to just think and cherish the company of the other. Harry hummed thoughtfully. "We have extra time to spend now that you're staying here for the rest of the night."

I blinked a couple times and yawned, causing Harry to yawn too. "Yeah, I guess we do."

"What do you want to do, then?"

"Go to sleep."

"That's boring."

"You're boring."

"Maybe."

"Let's talk, then," I suggested.

"About what?"

"Anything."

Anything. What an incredibly broad topic. 'Anything' could have to do with everything from life to death to love to loss to family to friends to laughter to, well, anything. But that's just the thing. I wanted to talk about everything with him because I wanted to know him so our relationship with each other could become stronger and we could be honest and dependent on one another. Talking can be healthy and utilizing and it can open hundreds of doors that lead to endless possibilities of topics for conversation and information.

"Okay... be more specific," Harry said.

"I don't know. Just... tell me something I don't know about you. Tell me what you hope to achieve in this life."

"If I tell you, you're going to think it's dumb."

"I would never think that you're dumb."

"That's because I haven't told you  _this_  yet."

"Just tell me."

"Fine. At some point in my life, I want to do soemthing that sorta resembles the 'American Dream'. You know, like have a normal everyday job that can pay the bills, have a wife and kids and a house and regaular friends. I want to have a chance at a normal life so that maybe..." he inhaled a long breath and then released it slowly, "I can achieve happiness -- quality, grade A happiness. I don't know how to do it or where it's supposed to come from but I just want to find a way to be content with myself and be able to say without hesitation, 'I'm happy'. That's my goal. That's what I ultimately want."

"Why did you think I would think that's stupid?" I inquired.

"Because it's so cliche. There's no substance behind it."

"I don't know. I think there's motivation and determination. If you can use those as fuel, I don't know what's going to stop you." He mumbled something incoherent under his breath, but when I asked him what it was, he dismissed it. "Well I think it's a great idea."

"You're biased. You like all of my ideas."

"That's just because I like  _you._ "

 _Jesus, Charlie, you did_ NOT _just say that, did you?_

"Sorry," I added sheepishly, hiding my face. "I'm tired and I'm not thinking straight."

"It's fine," he replied, but I could hear the smile in his voice.

 _I hate you so much right now,_  I scolded. _Why do you have to go and embarrass yourself in front of him all the time?_

He cleared his throat. "What about you? What are you trying to achieve?"

"Hm, I'm not sure. I think something I've considered a lot, even as a kid is changing someone's life in someway or another. That's one reason I went into nursing. I loved the idea of being able to change somebody's life by inspiring them or... something, I don't know, it's dumb."

"It's not dumb," Harry assured me. "That's a great aspiration." My cheeks heated momentarily at his words and I pulled my covers up to hide it. "And can I tell you something? I don't know if this counts because you actually know me, but like,  _you_  inspire  _me_. Like, you make me want to try harder at everything I do, especially when I'm around you. Like, I want to do better and be better and you kinda help me with that." He hesitated a moment to clear his throat again. "Like, I don't know, you're just really important to me and I think you should know that because you help me through a lot of stuff and you don't even realize it, I don't think."

"Harry..."

"No, like, for real. Just let me finish. Like today, I honestly think I would have broken down if you weren't there. You're kind of like my rock because I don't really have friends or even family for that matter so you're kind of like everything and everyone to me right now. I don't know, I'm sorry. I don't even know what I'm talking about. I'm just rambling."

The butterflies in my stomach fluttered happily at his announcement. Hearing somebody tell me (especially someone as close to me as Harry) that I helped them made me feel weightless, like I was floating on a cloud or on water. It made me feel fuzzy and happy and nostalgic even. That's the exact sort of thing that I'd been wanted to hear from somebody.

"No, Harry. It's fine. I'm actually really glad that you told me that."

"I felt like I needed to tell you."

"Thank you," I smiled.

"I sort of get my words all jumbled when I talk sometimes," he said quietly. "I say 'like' a lot because I don't know what else to say."

"It's okay."

"I kind of just blubber on until there's no point left to what I'm saying." I giggled to myself, hoping he wouldn't hear but he did. "Don't laugh at me," he whined.

"I'm only laughing because you always apologize for things that don't bother me. It's funny."

"I'm going to stop talking now," he decided and I smiled because his nervous habits really didn't bother me. I loved his ramblings. I found them endearing. "Can I turn off this light?" he asked me and I told him he could.

The living room went black as he flicked the switch on the lamp, making it so that I could see nothing. When my eyes adjusted I was able to make out the silhouette of Harry's body on the couch across from mine. He was turned over the other way, a tuft of dark curly hair peeking out from underneath the blanket being the only hint of his presence in the room. Besides that, he was hidden from sight.

"Night," he whispered.

"Night."

 

. . .

 

Ten minutes passed and I was already about to kill him.

I was literally about to kill him.

He was so god damn antsy, laying there, and I didn't know what the hell his problem was. He kept twisting and turning and rolling one way and then rolling the other way and then he kept sitting up and laying back down and I really was just ready to kill him.

"Harry, I swear to God if you do not stop moving, I'm going to staple you to the couch so that you won't ever have to move again."

"Sorry," he whispered apologetically.

"What's your deal, anyway?" I whispered back.

"I usually have something to hold when I go to bed, either a body pillow or duvet or something but I left that upstairs."

"Okay well either hug your own body or figure something else out because I can't sleep with you moving around like that. You might as well just start banging pots and pans."

"Hey, it's not my fault you're sleeping here."

" _OKAY, IT LITERALLY_ IS _YOUR FAULT THAT I'M SLEEPING HERE BECAUSE YOU'RE THE ONE WHO ASKED ME TO STAY THE NIGHT,_ " I whisper-shouted.

" _GEEZ, SORRY. YOU'RE RIGHT. I'LL FIGURE SOMETHING ELSE OUT. STOP YELLING AT ME. OH MY GOD._ "

" _FINE, I WILL._ "

" _YOU'RE MEAN AT NIGHT."_

" _I'M NOT MEAN, I'M TIRED, YOU FUCKER. NOW GOODNIGHT_."

" _GOODNIGHT_."

A couple more minutes had passed when I heard him shuffling again. I ignored it this time, though, because it sounded like he was getting up, my guess being to go upstairs to grab his pillow or something. My eyes were closed and my brain was prepared to sleep. I was warm and comfy and-

"What are you doing?" I asked irritatedly as Harry came over and pulled my covers halfway off.

"'Figuring something else out'," he explained and gently slid into the space between me and the sofa. I was far too tired at this point to argue with him so I allowed him to get situated underneath the covers as he wrapped the blanket and his arm around my waist, pulling me to his body. My heart jumped at the contact and I prayed he wouldn't be able to feel it beating ten times faster than before.

"Are you wearing a shirt?" I mumbled. His warm breath on the back of my neck made me shiver as he responded.

"No."

"Okay."

"Why? Do you want me to put one on?"

I held my breath because honestly I was probably going to die. He was right fucking here (WITHOUT A SHIRT ON) and his body was literally pressed to mine and I could feel his breath on me and I really was just not stable.

"Not particularly, no."

"Okay."

"Are you fine now?"

"Yeah. You?"

"I was fine before, actually. You were just being really distracting."

"Yeah, well your heart rate at the moment is sorta distracting me so maybe you should work on that now."

I blushed so hard I could feel it in my toes. "I hate you."

"I know."

"Goodnight."

"Can I kiss your cheek?"

_What the fuck, Harry Styles. You can't just ask me that._

"If you want to."

I felt his weight beside me shift as he leaned forward slightly and pressed his lips against the center of my cheek causing my whole body to heat up by like five hundred degrees.

"Okay, goodnight now," he whispered.

Not even five minutes later, we were both asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi guys! I'm so happy to be writing this Author's Note because that means that I'm officially updating! This update is long overdue and I would like to apologize, but I hope you all understand and don't (completely) hate me.
> 
> For starters, I really appreciate the support I'm receiving from a lot of you in terms of what I explained in the part before this. I'm happy that you guys are there for me. You all are my little family and I really depend on you guys. Thank you.
> 
> Secondly, I would like to thank my new friend Angeles (Twitter user @hscurlsxx) who motivated me a lot to keep writing. Sometimes I find it hard to find motivation. I really do try though. It just usually takes a long-ass time to make and edit chapters. I'm not particularly happy with this chapter, but if you happened to like it, please show me some love by voting and commenting. It would really mean a lot to hear your feedback!
> 
> Anyway, I love you guys all very, very much. Also, I changed my Twitter username to @ExcelsiorLou!
> 
> Cute as a button, every single one of you(:
> 
> -Mia <3
> 
> (P.S. I'm sorry that like 60% of this chapter is dialogue.)


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